Tiponi's Journal
by Tiponi Darkmane
Summary: Tiponi Darkmane is a young and naive Shu'halo (Tauren) with a knack for getting herself into trouble.
1. Preface

**Preface**

Four years ago I became interested in role-play in World of Warcraft. On the "World's End Tavern" Blizzard forum a co-op story titled "Shallow Grave" caught my eye. The first poster was calling for other authors to participate and I thought it was be a fun way to see if I was capable of becoming a character in my favourite game. I honestly did not expect to last more than a week.

As it turned out, a year later we had finished our saga and I had fallen in love with Tiponi Darkmane, the young Sunwalker (tauren paladin) who got herself into trouble. I was eager to roleplay Tiponi in-game, however at this point it was still over a year before the Cataclysm expansion allowed Tauren to be paladins.

So I decided to play Tiponi as a young Warrior before she went on her journey in "Shallow Grave". I had a lot of fun and I documented my experiences in a first-person journal.

My fellow co-op author and I had often spoken of continuing our story, but over time I believe she left for other things and when Blizzard updated the forums our story was lost.

Last year I decided to start posting my Tiponi collection. It is a motley set, hence my need for a preface.

**Part One** consists of Tiponi's journal, documenting my in-game experiences as a young Tauren warrior (italics for first person entries)

**Part Two** is Shallow Grave where I will give credit to my fellow authors on each post

**Part Three** is Kwahu's Journey, my first attempt at my own story to finish Shallow Grave

**Part Four** consists of a mixture of Tiponi's in-game experiences as a new Sunwalker as well as story elements that I have not yet planned to end.

Tiponi's Journal can also be found on the Blizzard forums; because each chapter was intended as a forum post they will likely be shorter than usual for this website.

Well, here goes. I hope you enjoy reading Tiponi's Journal as much as I have enjoyed writing it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Part One**

**Tiponi Darkmane**

_I cannot believe it. Tonight is the night my dreams came true. I had dreamed for so long of leaving, of seeing the whole world and experiencing all of it. I dreamt for so long that it started to feel like only that, a simple dream. It was up to me all along. I thought about it, pined over it, reconsidered and wondered, but all it took was the one decision to change everything._

_I decided to join the Earthspear._

_I'd heard so much about them, and as I spoke to some of them by the pool in Thunder Bluff this past week, I became convinced that this tribe would give me the opportunity I sought. The opportunity for adventure. I wish to see the mesas and plains that stretch far beyond the boundaries of Mulgore. I want to see the other cities of the horde, talk to a Forsaken and lie beneath unfamiliar stars. Once I decided that, the rest was easy. Father will forgive me._

_Please Father, forgive me._


	3. Chapter 3

_Elder Pishnek has shown me a wondrous thing. The Earthspear tribe can communicate across great distances through the use of a totem blessed by an air spirit. I have seen the shaman of my village use such a thing before, but never thought I could possibly duplicate the feat. He says that I will learn in time, and soon I will understand the strange sounds emitted by my totem. The Earthspear can use it to contact me whenever they have need of me, and vice-versa. I just need to make one..._

_I've been thinking hard about my totem. It needs to be significant to me, in material and design. Pishnek spoke of the animal spirits and suggested that I craft my totem in that form. I'll admit that I crept into father's tent while he was out and I went through my grandmother's old things. She had this tiny figurine of an owl, carved out of a pale crystal. I think it might have been her totem. I was too young to ask her this while she was alive, I just thought it was a pretty toy to play with. I took it from father's chest of valuables. I plan to return it before he notices, I just...need a little guidance._

_I'm no stone crafter, and I've never been very good at wood-work either. I could make my totem out of leather, but then it might not last very long. Perhaps I could make it out of clay? I would need to fire up the kiln while everyone in the village is asleep. I think I'll go out to Red Rocks tomorrow. The clay there is naturally very fine and it would be ideal._

_Now all I have to do is find my totem animal. Easier said than done... I heard some of the warriors say that they smoked a pipe full of magic herbs to discover their totem spirit. I broached the subject with the Elders lightly, just to gauge their reaction. They laughed at me and told me to come back when I am older! My brother always has it easy, the Eagle came to Kwahu in a dream. Perhaps I will be so fortunate._


	4. Chapter 4

_As I write I am taking a break from my task up at Red Rocks. I did not manage to find my animal totem in my dreams last night but I am not concerned. There is still plenty of time. I have collected a good portion of fine red clay. I have it wrapped between rolls of wet linen to keep it fresh until I can work on it tonight back home. As I was finishing my gathering I spied a strange yellow colour in the rocks on a high ledge. Getting a sample down took me only about ten minutes and I'm glad I did. Father called this ore Q'uellu'hua'sun, it can be turned into a bright golden pigment. I will use this in the making of my totem. Surely the Earthmother has given me this gift, I take it as a sign that she is pleased with the path I have chosen._


	5. Chapter 5

_I suppose there is no shame in asking for help. I'll admit that I am very unknowledgeable about matters outside my people's ancestral lands, but surely I should be able to recognise my own totem animal? For the last few nights I have risen under Mu'sha's light. I have sat by the kiln with the clay on the bench. Ready to go. Nothing._

_Last night I sat there staring at that little malformed lump until An'she rose in the sky. Kwahu teased me all day about looking like a Forsaken. I've never felt like this before. I'm at a complete and total loss... I tried to sculpt wings at first. Like Grandmother or my brother, I thought my totem animal might be a bird. The clay felt apart in my hands, the shape refusing to take form. Every night I pray that I will find my totem in my dreams, but when I awake all I hear is laughter echoing inside my own head._

_There is no shame in admitting that I do not know. Roakkeal gave me a fragment of a book to read, it holds a great list of many totem animals and their qualities. I've been reading it every spare moment I can get. Perhaps mine will be a bat totem, after all bat can be a "powerful totem for change." I've had to change a lot to get this far I suppose. Or perhaps it should be a plainstrider or zhevra totem? Both are wanderers and all I have ever wanted has been travel and adventure. It's quite a long list, I'll try to get more done tomorrow._

_Totem animal, can't you hear me looking for you?_


	6. Chapter 6

_I fell asleep on my way back home from the village. I suppose it's not surprising given all the restless nights I've had, trying to discover my totem. Well, the good news is, I have the answer. It's just... not quite what I expected. I curled up under a thicket of trees and fell asleep as soon as my eyelids closed. No, I did not dream of my totem animal coming to me. He came while I was awake..._

_It was the breath on my face that disturbed me from the dream world. I came back around, and for a moment I was paused in that place between worlds. I was half-asleep, half-awake, but I was aware. I could see An'she beginning to go behind the mountains, and the sky staining red at her passing. The birds were silent, there was nothing disturbing the air but the sounds of our breathing. His nose was close to mine. When I awoke, I was staring into his eyes and I knew that he had found me. I wish I had said, "Thankyou my totem for answering my prayers." That would have been ideal. Instead I said:_

_"No, no, no, no. Please, go away. Not you, anything but you."_

_I no doubt offended him, but he only sat and regarded me, as I regarded him. We were like that for what felt like hours, our faces only inches from each others, staring into each other's spirits. I felt the connection and I knew I had found my totem then. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, he seemed to smile, then off he went._

_I do not doubt it, but I can scarcely believe it..._

_My totem is the Coyote._


	7. Chapter 7

_My air totem is done._

_The block that had been keeping me from its completion finally fell away. I sculpted the beast out of clay with skill I never knew I possessed. Judging by the light I must have spent hours working on it, but I was not aware of even the minutes passing. I captured the deep pools of his eyes hinting at endless mystery. I textured his fur, his delicate paws. I even managed to capture that slight smile he seemed to bear as he judged me and found me fitting. I ground the Q'uellu'hua'sun ore into a fine powder with my mortar and pestle and painted the sun-gold pigment onto his fur. While my beautiful little clay coyote baked in the kiln, I fell into a satisfied sleep._

_It was there that Kwahu found me._

_"Is this what you've been sneaking off to do?" he demanded while I was still bleary eyed._

_"You don't understand brother-"_

_"I understand perfectly." He stood tall with his head held high. He has changed a lot since he began his training with the druids, but he is not the only one who has changed._

_"It's my totem." I told him simply, standing my ground. I became aware of the first rays of light coming through the window. I would need to be gone soon._

_"You were serious then? About joining this tribe and abandoning your real family?" he punctuated each question with a finger jabbed at my chest. I raised my gaze to meet his._

_"I have joined them. I have been accepted." The look on his face pleased my selfish aspect for a split second, but I regretted it a moment later._

_"I'm telling father." He strode off._

_"No! Please!" I called out to him vainly as he left._

_It is done._


	8. Chapter 8

_I had a nice long chat with Ushi tonight. He was troubled and we ended up speaking for hours until Mu'sha fell below the horizon. The talk helped me too, by trying to help him I forgot my own problems for a while. He told me that he had attacked his own kin, and that the Chieftain and Felgar were going to kill him by throwing him over the bluffs. I tried to assure him that they must have been joking but he believes they were deadly serious. He thinks he was tainted by a... thing named Apophan. I have heard this name before. He is an evil Shu'halo who has fallen as far as I think it is possible to fall. Ushi said the shamans tried to cleanse the taint but were blocked by some kind of serpents. I find it all very strange. I'd like to think he feels better now. If he is tainted perhaps it was very foolish for me to sit and talk to him alone. I didn't feel in danger with him. Maybe I'm just a fool..._

_He's going into Desolace tomorrow to begin his rites. Maybe I shouldn't have written that, I'm not sure if it was a secret... no matter, no one is going to read this. I told him to throw himself against the meanest monster he can find, to channel his rage into a good cause._

_Bad Bear please be safe._


	9. Chapter 9

_I had a dream._

_It was a good dream, and it did not vanish from my memory when I awoke as some of my dreams are want to do. In my dream I saw my Grandmother... I miss her so. Sometimes I feel like she is the only one who ever understood me._

_She told me that the Earthmother has a plan for us all, and that father will forgive me eventually._

_I was still upset, I didn't even want to talk about father._

_She talked to me of the coyote. I raised my concern, that he is often viewed as a trickster and as a bringer of death. She replied that those are only a part of his nature. Coyote completes the cycle of life, and he also brings new life. He plays tricks as a way to remind us to be mindful of our actions. He shows us how the consequences of our actions can affect more than just ourselves and that we must learn from our mistakes if we intend not to repeat them. Roakkeal's paper tells me that coyote is also a shape-shifter, a transformer of personality. He too symbolises change. I will honour coyote..._

_Oh one more thing... Coyote's philosophy is that no matter how difficult or dire a situation we find ourselves, we must always take time to laugh..._

_Ha._


	10. Chapter 10

_What an amazing day. I do not know where to start..._

_Oh yes, Daethon has returned from his rites in Tanaris. We sat by the pond and he told me about his amazing adventures in the desert with the Sandfury Trolls. We went for a little trip down to the faire grounds. I realised last week when I 'borrowed' father's kodo to journey with the Earthspear through the Barrens, that I will need a mount of my own in order to keep up with my tribe mates. Unfortunately now that father has disowned me and cast me out I have little in the way of money. I have the clothes on my back, my little coyote totem, Grandmother's owl figure, a few personal odds and ends like this old journal, and my Grandmother's old armour. I'll admit it, I stole it. I won't be going back to father so I have no means to return it. I was feeling rightly horrible about it until Daethon pointed out that my Grandmother and I were so joined in spirit, I know it to be true that she would have wanted me to have it. I feel better thinking that I am honouring her wishes._

_So I made bread. There's not a lot I can do. I can hunt prairie dogs and cook and sew. Not a lot going for me there... So I baked bread to sell at the faire. I saw a human there, can you believe it? But no one wanted my bread. Why would they? They sold these amazing things at the faire called Darkmoon Dogs, they are delicious but I don't recommend eating more than three at a time. I'll have to think of some other way to increase my income. Kodos are expensive._

_I ran into Sisika again today. I met her only briefly before, and she was just as strange then. The other's told me she is the Cheiftain's daughter. She sure has a peculiar manner... I'm not sure if I like her or not, she puzzles me._

_Oh fantastic news! When Rorark, Roakkeal, Daethon and I were discussing our rites, I admitted that I was concerned. You see, I've never been trained to fight. The only combat experience I've had other than hunting rodents for supper has been once long ago when our caravan was attacked I was shoved in a barrel. That's it. Rorark has offered to train me! I hope I can improve quickly, I will need to approach the Elders in a week for my rites and if I am unprepared than I will dishonour the tribe and my oath._

_I'll admit it started poorly. I nearly carved off the... the manparts of my friends. It was then that Rorark switched me to a wooden training weapon. We trained out in the fields of Mulgore until the sun had set and it grew too dark to see. I think I'm getting better. I was abysmal before, now I'm only terrible._

_When we rejoined Roakkeal back at the bluffs I saw he was already in the process of attuning his totem with shaman Crowstorm's help. I watched carefully in the hopes that I too would get the chance and Crow didn't let me down. It was a simple little ritual, and I think it helped to attune me to Coyote even more than it helped the wind speak to reach my ears._

_It's strange. I've experienced such changing flashes of emotion all week. I was ready to die yesterday from sadness, but today I feel like I could float away on a cloud. Everything will be alright now, I'm sure of it._


	11. Chapter 11

_I've started training with a wooden dummy while Rorark isn't around. I'm actually finding it a lot easier to hit the thing when it's not moving and I don't have to move either. Fighting is a lot harder against a real opponent. I think I'm getting better. At least, I've stopped hitting myself in the head with my own weapon- which is a good sign. My whole body aches though, and I'm running out f time._

_I had an amazing opportunity yesterday. Daethon, Roakkeal and I rode down to Feralas. Can you believe it? The trees stretch as high as the sky there and there is a fresh green moss that grows on everything. Strange bird calls echo through the canopy and ancient fallen trees are home to all manner of beasts. I would love to have explored more but we went with a purpose. It was called the Hornet's Nest, some sort of fight club with orcs. I saw an orc! He was shorter than a bull, but you should have seen his muscles. They were like a tree's trunk! Daethon and Roak suggested that I watch the fights to learn. I'm not sure I can do the things those warriors could do. They fought with their bare hands, with raw power. Daethon fought an orc. I thought he did rather well- better than I could have, but he seemed disappointed in himself._

_Oh speaking of Roakkeal, I've discovered that he has an amazing talent. I have heard of beast masters being able to see through their animal companion's eyes, and take on some qualities of the beast, but Roak does something different all together. He merges somehow with his cat Lyra. His lynx took over his body! I had a conversation with a cat! Something I never imagined I could do outside my dreams. She likes chocolate, and watermelon...and Daethon apparently. I wonder what that means..._

_I've been looking into other ways to make money. Roak says he does odd jobs for people for cash. I'm sure I could do something like that, I just need to get my name out there so that people know to ask me. In the meantime I have another lead I want to follow up. I've heard there's a wigmaker in Ratchet who buys hair! Kind of gross I know, but gold's gold and right now a kodo is more important to me than my braids. Next time I'm in the Barrens I'll have to chase it up._

_I had a lovely chat with Crowstorm tonight. She's such a sweet shaman. I'm sure she'll make an excellent Elder if she wants to be. We talked about battle scars and she told an amazing story about how she got her totem from a black dragon._

_Now as I sit by the pool, writing by torchlight I'm thinking about what tomorrow will bring. I might tell another one of Grandmother's stories at the Circle. Now I just have to decide which one._


	12. Chapter 12

_It's just started raining in Thunder Bluff. I don't mind the rain, but usually I prefer to be indoors or around a nice roaring fire. Today it felt good on my skin though. I've been training a lot lately. Roakkeal and Daethon have been teaching me how to block and dodge incoming attacks. These sorts of things I can't learn from a training dummy. Roakkeal has helpful advice. He is a beastmaster and often takes on what he calls "aspects" of the animal spirits. For example, if he wishes to be quick, he might call on the aspect of the cheetah. This puts him into the right frame of mind, granting him some of the abilities of that animal spirit. My friends are so blessed and they hardly see it. I am trying very hard not to be jealous of their abilities, but it is sometimes difficult. Especially when they seem to take them for granted..._

_Anyway, Roakkeal suggested I try drawing from the aspect of my totem animal coyote. To think like the coyote, move like him, and fight like him. I gave it a go. I decided to trick Daethon the next time he charged at me in his cheetah form. I tried to leap over him, hoping to surprise him and gain the advantage. I mustn't be a very good coyote... He seemed to know I was about to try something and just as I jumped he called upon his druidic powers and transformed into a bear! Needless to say I didn't make the jump over him... but at least I avoided getting impaled on his horns. It's been great sparring with them. I can feel myself getting better. It's strange. Not only can I feel that my muscles are getting stronger, and my reflexes quicker, but I also feel like my senses are becoming more like a warrior's. I hear noises in my sleep and I find myself trying to grab for a weapon before I am even fully awake. As I walk through the bluffs I find myself noting advantageous positions for a scuffle. I'm changing, and I like it._

_I told the story of How the Prairie Dog Lost his Tail at the Story Circle. It was one of my favourites as a little girl because it tells of how the animals came to be as they are. I think it went down well. Crowstorm told us the same story she did earlier but she made it even more exciting, if such a thing were possible. Let's see, there were so many. Ah yes, Daethon spoke. He told the story of the Butterfly that Stamped. I had heard it before, it was another of my Grandmother's favourites. It was strange though, Daethon told me he heard the story from a troll. The story was the same, but small details were different. I would love to see how many of our stories take another form in Orc and Troll cultures. In the version I knew, it was not Loas that came down from the sky, but mighty Ancestral Spirit Warriors, and it was not a great sea beast that ate all the food, it was my dear Coyote. Rorark also told a tale, about how he earned the name "Shatterfist". It was very amusing, to think- he punched a kodo horn! I laughed so hard._

_We had our tribe meeting today. Padania stood down as the Head Brave's second for the safety of her unborn child. I don't know her well, but I admire her actions. Anocken has taken up the position, and I'm certain she'll do a great job. Ushi and Daethon were made kin today. Ahh Daethon... I learnt something about him that took me completely by surprise. He... got very close to one of the Chieftain's daughters... It was very strange. I felt very weird hearing about that, and after the meeting I hurried off to get my head in order._

_I put on my armour and headed out to the Hunter's Rise, where I proceeded to hack into the training dummies there. I'm not jealous. I'm not even old enough for a mate, and I never even thought about Daethon in that way. Besides, he has that weird thing with Lyra going on... I don't know what came over me. I couldn't rationalise my weird emotions. I think it's my hormones. At the beginning of the year I noticed my body begin to change and grow in weird ways. I wish mother or grandmother were around to explain things to me, but I think I've figured it out mostly. These weird emotional mood swings are new though... I hope they don't last. Who knows what Daethon thought about my actions?_

_One good thing came of it though... as I hacked into that wooden dummy I was not focused on who was watching me. I wasn't embarrassed or concerned that I might make a mistake. I just unleashed my raw feelings on my target. I wasn't even aware of my swings for the most part, so preoccupied was my mind. After a few minutes I was dripping with sweat and feeling a whole lot better. It's taught me a lesson too, I need to loosen up. If I keep worrying about embarrassing myself in front of my tribe mates, that will only make me more likely to stuff up._

_I feel like laughing. Such a weird day, but it's all becoming clearer. I'm almost ready to undertake my rites. I'm no longer the girl I used to be._


	13. Chapter 13

_How could I have been so stupid? I embarrassed myself in front of the Head Brave and nearly got myself killed..._

_It started by the pond in bluffs. Adalina was resting beside me as Roakkeal and Lohawq talked about tracking great beasts. The druid Kunawen came up and started, well, irritating me to be honest. First she was chewing on Lina's tail but then she started gnawing on my own. I left partly to get away from her but I also had an ulterior motive in mind. I had heard the Bluffwatchers speaking of a great beast that they could see sometimes from the lifts. It comes out at night as if a ghost and its pelt gleams white under Mu'sha's light. I decided to hunt the beast. Its pelt would make a fine trophy for my first kill. I know that I am no tracker, so I enlisted Roakkeal's aid. He protested that his skills lay in other areas but I think he performed admirably. His cat Lyra raced ahead, and she found the scent of the ghost wolf quickly. I think my heart stopped beating for a moment when my eyes first caught sight of him. His glorious fur truly did shine with the light of Mu'sha. Roakkeal gave me some sort of blessing, I'm not exactly sure what, but other than that he stayed back and let me make the kill my own. It was over quickly. I cornered the beast against the cliff face north of the bluffs and swiftly felled it with my spear. I was so proud my heart sang at that moment. Roakkeal was kind and claimed little credit, but I knew he and Lyra aided me greatly. I skinned the beast and took its pelt as a trophy like I intended, and its meat I harvested for a hearty meal. My head was soaring in the clouds when we returned to the bluffs, so much so that it took me a moment to realise that something was wrong._

_The druid Kunawen was nowhere in sight, but Adalina was being attacked by an elf. As I moved towards her, as though in a daze, I saw her fall. Apparently I screamed a warning into my totem, but I do not remember this. I drew my spear and charged at the elf standing over Lina. It was a foolish move. My training with Daethon, Roakkeal and Rorark was nothing compared to a real fight. I was clumsy, and I moved without thinking. Luckily the Head Brave was there and the Chieftain. They fought off the two elf attackers as I stood there like an idiot. I thought Adalina was dead and I began to cry, revealing my pitiful weakness to the Head Brave. He snapped at me to stop my foolishness, and sent Roakkeal and I to scour the bluff. I was so ashamed I wished I could melt into the ground. I not only displayed my pitiful fighting skills but I also bawled like a child, revealing my immaturity as well. The attackers had disappeared._

_Tasicala comforted me afterwards. She is so wonderfully nice. She said that it was I that gave the tribe the warning of the attack, which made me feel better. She told me that she also had a hard time during her first fight with the Cult. She, however, has a horrible scar to show for it. I told her that I felt as though, just when I thought I was prepared- I found out that I truly knew nothing. She said something profound. She said: Just when I thought I knew all life's answers, they changed the questions. Ha! It's a lesson I want to heed well. We sat by the pond and Roakkeal was amazingly lucky, he managed to fish up a bloated trout that had swallowed Lina's false eye! I didn't even realise that she had lost it during the attack. She came back down to the pond and we spoke for a while. I am relieved that she will be ok. She thinks that her connections in Silvermoon had something to do with the attack, and this might not be the last of them. Next time, I will not be such a fool._


	14. Chapter 14

Tiponi's Rites

_Head Brave Rakhalen,_

_It has been ten moons since I pledged myself to the Earthspear tribe. Since that time I have been training hard. Rorark, Daethon and Roakkeal have been teaching me how to fight._

_I need a chance to prove I'm not such a... I ask for the opportunity to undertake my rites and prove my worth to the tribe._

_-Tiponi_


	15. Chapter 15

_Well, this is it. It's finally time for me to undergo my rites and prove my worth to the Earthspear tribe. I packed up my few meagre belongings and started off on my journey. I'm tasked with travelling to Un'goro crater. Just wait until I tell Daethon! I'll get to see Tanaris desert after all on my way through. I'm so excited!_

_First I made a stopover in Ratchet. I had planned to visit that wig-maker to see how much gold I could get for my braids, but in the end I didn't need to. There is a goblin bank at the port town and they do loans! Oh surely the Earthmother is with me on this day. Oh course, the goblins weren't willing to just give out a large sum of gold to a Shu'halo they had never met. They wanted something they could count on me returning for. I emptied out my pack of belongings to show them that I really didn't have much on me, but wouldn't you know it, their eyes just lit right up when they saw Grandmother's crystal totem. They agreed to take the totem until I return and repay them their loan. I'm so happy! Clearly the goblins could understand the deep spiritual significance that item holds for me._

_So with my pockets full of gold I went to a kodo handler to buy myself a mount for the journey. It's rather shocking how much a fully trained kodo costs, and I ended up paying extra for some armoured barding. I'm sure there will be many fierce creatures in Un'goro so it will be safer to have some protection. My kodo is a beautiful creature with pale scales and spots the colour of Red Rocks sand. I think I'll name her Denali, which means Tall One. We rode swiftly through the Barrens, making great time. At first I found her bouncing gait very unsettling on my stomach, but I think I'm growing accustomed to it swiftly._

_We took the Great Lift down into the canyon of Thousand Needles. It has been many years since I was last here. I have the vaguest memory of travelling the trading route with father, but that was many seasons ago before mother died. It was truly beautiful, unnaturally silent and still. I rode carefully, because I know that our enemies- the centaur, populate the region. As it was I saw nothing but hyenas and wind serpents until I emerged from the Needles into the great basin called the Salt Flats. The sun reflected off the sand in a way that made it shimmer, and colours seemed to flicker on the horizon. We started south, according to my map there is a trail through the mountains that leads into the desert. As soon as I led Denali onto the flats, all manner of beasts began nipping at our heels. I urged her on and we were swarmed by desert vultures, and creatures I have never seen before except in drawings- I think they were basilisks and scorpids. Denali was beginning to tire as we ran, that heavy barding must surely weigh her down. I was considering my options when suddenly as one all the creatures backed off. I must remember to thank my friends even more profusely for the training they have given me, for without those reflexes I might have continued on in blissful ignorance. As it happened I pulled tightly on Denali's reins and she skidded to a stop just before a demonic contraption sped by, roaring and belching fire. I thought it might have been a dragon like the others talked about, but as I neared the cluster of buildings further south I got a closer look. It was some kind of mechanical mount, fuelled by magic and fire and piloted by a truly insane goblin. Whatever it was, it would have killed me if I got in its way just the same._

_We passed the town and headed toward the mountain pass. It wasn't that hard to find, even for an inexperienced tracker like myself. The path was worn flat from years of use. I urged Denali up the slope and as we crossed the threshold of the mountain peak I breathed deeply in my excitement- and got a mouthful of sand. I couldn't see the desert ahead of me, it just looked like a strange, storming brown cloud. I later learned that it was a sand-storm, impossible conditions for travelling. I caught the faintest glimpse of torches through the storm and headed down until I found the goblin trading town Gadgetzan. It was beginning to get late at this point and I was not willing to venture out into the desert in the dark, so I rented a bed for the night and began to stock up on supplies: food, blankets, water, and all of the essentials. The traders in town warned me that storms like this can last several days sometimes and only the suicidal would travel in this weather. I hope the storm clears up soon, I want to see Tanaris with my own eyes! As it write in the goblin inn it occurs to me that this is as far as I have ever been from home. I'm so happy. I'll pray to the Earthmother that the storm clears up fast so that I can continue my rites soon._


	16. Chapter 16

_The Earthmother has blessed me I'm sure. The sand storm has lessened- it no longer rages like it did yesterday and so I decided to go ahead with my trek across the desert. I took a tip from the goblins and wrapped my cloak around my face. It not only shelters my eyes and face from the sun but it also stops a lot of the sand blowing in. As I started out I was immediately taken by how beautiful and white the sand is. Unfortunately it began to heat up fast. An'she was not yet overhead and still I could feel the warmth emanating from below. Ahead I spied a makeshift settlement around a watering hole. I was careful not to get to close. I could make out the forms of the Sandfury trolls, ready to fiercely defend their water. It wasn't worth a confrontation yet, not while I still have full water skins._

_I came to a place as I headed west that felt wholly unnatural. The earth was marred and great spires protruded from the ground and twitched as if they were alive. Amidst these spikes scuttled what looked like giant beetles and wasps, but these are unlike any insect I have ever seen. Ants can seem intelligent as they follow a trail to their food source and back, but if you block their route, the ants quickly fall into chaos because they lack the intelligence to find an alternate path. The eyes of these creatures glimmer with malign intellect, and their movements are considered. They are no insects like I have ever known. I have heard of these creatures, they are called the Silithid. They are a parasitic plague on the earth of Kalimdor. As a part of my rites I am to learn why the jungles of Un'goro have not succumbed to the infestation of Sithilids to their west, or to the desert that surrounds it._

_I found the path that winds through the mountains and down into the crater. This could be one of the reasons for the unique ecology of Un'goro- it's so hard to get to! It's remote- cut off from Venture Co. developers, dwarven diggers, marauding centaur and too far out for a trading route. As such it has probably remained this way, untouched by sentient beings, since the Earthmother first created it. I feel like I'm getting a glimpse back through time. The only marker pointing to the path are a pair of strange obelisks. I cannot fathom if they have another purpose, but they seem incredibly old._

_As I wind my way down into the crater I notice that it remains hot, but it's also growing more humid. I'm beginning to sweat uncomfortably and irritating biting insects are swarming around me. The trees stretch up to the sky as tall as the surrounding mountains. I think they're even taller than the trees in Feralas, and they're covered in hanging vines and flowers that bloom in bright colours. The flowers, the brightly coloured parrots and strange crystals dot the forest with spots of colour. The crystals interest me, I've never seen or heard of anything like them. They seem to flicker with an internal light that makes them flare. I've seen four kinds of crystal here, red, green, yellow and blue. I shall have to investigate further._


	17. Chapter 17

_I was very surprised to see a waterfall here in Un'goro. I tried to climb back up the cliff face to gain a better look, but I'm afraid I'm quite unskilled at mountain climbing and I didn't get very far. If I had rope and something to secure myself with, perhaps I could rappel down from Tanaris? In any case, the waterfall has gotten me thinking. There are no rivers in the Tanaris desert, obviously, so the water cannot come from there. My next thought would be that it came from melting snow in the high mountain peaks- but I distinctly remember the mountains surrounding the desert being bare of snow. There is only one other explanation that I can think of. There must be an underground water source, like a hidden spring. Perhaps the little rain that falls on Tanaris and Silithus soaks into the ground and drains downward to Un'goro, creating the flooded marsh plains? The more I explored the more convinced I am that this is the case. Take the trees for example, they look very different to the sycamores I'm used to. Their roots raise them above the ground, so high in some cases that I am able to fit under the living tree! I believe the trees have adapted in this way so that they are not suspended underwater to rot. There are also very strange roots that poke up out of the soil. Yes that's right, roots growing up. I believe this is also to do with the tree perhaps trying to breathe above the water? I'm no druid so I cannot simply communicate with the trees, but I'm noticing other signs pointing to the same conclusion. I found the rotten carcass of a threshadon. I've seen smaller threshadon's around the coastline of the Barrens, and I know for a fact that they are water-dwelling creatures. I also found a boat! It was rotten and half-submerged in the marshland but I think it conclusively proves that this land was flooded at one point. And for the trees to have adapted as they have I believe it's been happening with regularity for some time now. I think I'm on to something here..._

_It started to storm heavily so Denali and I sought shelter under the roots of a particularly large tree. The canopy is so thick with leaves here that little of An'she's light gets through and I was surprised at how quickly the forest was plunged into darkness. The storm worsened, lashing rain into my face as I curled up against my kodo's side. Lightning flashed across the sky, giving brief glimpses of the jungle and imprinting strange patterns on my eyes in the following darkness. It was terrifying being blinded like that. I am certain that there is something out there. The ground shook with its heavy footsteps and I could hear deep breathing. I prayed for the darkness to consume me and for the creature to leave. Later on I heard the death-cry of a beast and the crunching and chewing sounds of it being consumed. I did not sleep at all that night._


	18. Chapter 18

_I was not lost. I just didn't know precisely where I was for a while... The rain has ceased by the time An'she peeked through the ceiling of leaves. The water had left a glistening sheen of dew upon everything which sparkled in the early morning light. It was beautiful, and so I started the day feeling a lot better than I had during that horrid night. I had become somewhat turned around, you see one spot of jungle looks very much like every other spot of jungle. And between the thick canopy of leaves and the storms last night I was not able to see the stars to gain my bearings. So I started out the day in the hopes of finding a landmark._

_I found an abandoned campsite. It was in a state of disrepair and is being reclaimed by the jungle, but it shows that there were other people here recently. There was no food in the camp, only some strange tools. I took them, even though I do not know their purpose they might prove useful. So I spent the better part of the day exploring and cataloguing the local animal and plant life. Anything could provide me with the clue I need to fulfil my rites. Un'goro crater is mostly populated with reptiles. Large raptors, and well as strange lizards with sail fins on their backs and others with wings. I believe these are all called dinosaurs, and are the living ancestors of the reptiles we see today. One again I feel as though I am seeing a snapshot of the past. I wish I had done more research before I left. As I discover more and more things I have never seen, I feel more and more like I am unprepared for this journey._

_This time I wanted to be more careful and prepare a campsite before dusk fell. I needed a secluded spot where I could hide safely away from that creature. As it happened I got distracted. I was still exploring when I felt a strange tingle as though I was not alone. I hid and before long I caught sight of a dwarf woman. I have seen dwarves before, the filthy things dig too deep into our Earthmother's soil in search of trinkets. Although I have encountered Alliance before on neutral grounds, this was the first time I had seen one when I was by myself and in hostile territory. She was small, as dwarves tend to be, but she had a large (for her) shotgun strapped across her back and she was hacking through the undergrowth with a sharp machete. I decided to hide and avoid any confrontation. After my miserable experience in Thunder Bluff last week I would rather not have to risk a fight. So I stayed hidden, but perhaps out of curiosity or because I did not want to lose sight of my enemy, I chose to follow her. I am no tracker, but I have hunted small game before. I stayed hidden and kept downwind. The hunter was tracking some beast, I'm sure. She kept examining tracks on the floors and stopping, listening. After following her for what must have been at least two drums I realised that she was going in circles. What a pathetic tracker she was! It was at this point that I lost sight of her._

_I stopped and listened. Not hearing anything except the calling of the wild birds I crept forth from my hiding place, trying to lay sight upon the hunter. I had no warning. A loud clang resounded in my ears as the bullet ricocheted off my kodo's barding right beside me. I dove for cover, the only shield currently available to me was my mount who began to panic and shy as she was under fire. My friends taught me how to dodge and block blows. WHAT ABOUT BULLETS GUYS? WE NEVER COVERED BULLETS!_

_Her hail of fire stopped as she began to reload her gun. I had to take this opportunity before it passed. Swiftly I ran out from behind Denali and charged at the woman, spear at the ready. The woman raised her shotgun up to my face to blast me away but luckily I made it to her in time. My spear struck true and knocked the weapon from her grasp. She withdrew that wicked machete and sized me up. We circled around each other for a bit. I wasn't certain what to do, all of my previous actions had come from training and instinct. My conscious mind was sectioned off from the rest of my thoughts, gibbering "I'm going to die. I'm going to die... " while the rest of me focussed on my opponent._

_She struck at me. It was a measured strike to test me. I deflected it and widened my stance. After a few more heartbeats she struck again, faster this time and to the side. I deflected it again, with thoughts of my training echoing through my mind. Again and again, two swift blows. Clang! Clang! I deflected them both and raised my spear into a ready pose. She frowned at me then, perhaps she thought I was toying with her. To be brutally honest, I was too scared to make a move. She struck at me again but this time she reversed her direction to catch me by surprise. I couldn't deflect it in time, but I was able to dodge it and the blade only grazed my armour. She grinned at this and said something in her harsh language. When she came at me again she did not follow through. She moved to attack me and then withdrew her blade. I would move to parry it and the weapon would not longer be there. She did this once, twice, three times I was caught off guard and each time my slow recovery gave her an opening. I was covered by this point in half a dozen small cuts to my flesh and armour. It wasn't really debilitating, but due to the fact the my opponent was as yet unscathed I was beginning to worry at this point. I needed to strike back. So I set down my hooves, ready to counterattack the next blow. I had never mastered this strike with Rorark but I had few options remaining. When the blade came I blocked it first then quickly struck out on my own. Rorark had deflected it easily but this woman was surprised and I managed to slice her cheek open with my efforts._

_She stopped, her eyes widening as she raised her hand to the gash in her face which was bleeding profusely. I readied my stance, again waiting for her to make a move. She had pulled back form me to recover so now we stood quite widely apart. My hands tightened on my spear haft, my hooves finding stable footing. She regarded me and tossed her blade from one hand to the other- perhaps it was an intimidation tactic. Finally she charged at me and when she came I was struck by a memory. Daethon raced towards me, swifter than imaginable in his cheetah form as Roakkeal whispered to me, "Call on your totem, let their spirit give you strength." It hadn't worked before... But what were the changes that this dwarf could turn into a bear? As the woman reached me I leapt at her. She was caught completely by surprised and pinned under my weight with her weapon out of her grasp. I held my spear point to her throat and prepared to make the killing blow._

_I'm a failure. I hesitated. I don't know what it was, perhaps my own insecurities, perhaps because it was my first kill of a sentient creature? All I know is that when I looked into that dwarf's eyes I saw fear in them that mirrored my own. Perhaps if she had tried to run I wouldn't have stopped her. I'm not sure at that point. Time seemed to slow as I wrestled with my inner conflicts, then it sped up so suddenly it was as if it had skipped ahead. The woman had reached for a knife and out of instinct my blade had cut through her throat. Her eyes were no longer full of fear but glazed and empty. I cannot say how long I sat there atop the dead woman. She was my enemy, and she had tried to kill me. So why do I feel so horrid? I truly am a failure._


	19. Chapter 19

_The light was swiftly dimming before I was able to walk again on steady legs. I unceremoniously left the dwarf where she lay. I feel bad about that now, I should have said a few words even for an enemy, but I was still not thinking straight. I then smelled something foul. I'll admit, at first I blamed Denali, but then I became aware of a slow plopping sound. I saw before me great pools of black goop, bubbling slowly. I rejoiced, I had found the Lakkari Tar Pits and so I could pinpoint my place on the map. We made our way slowly through the pits. I led the way holding the reins of my kodo as she trailed behind. The light was fading fast at this point and I was looking for a swift route out of the tar bog. I strode forward and was suddenly pulled back by the taught reins I held._

_I turned around, ready to scold Denali for stopping when what I saw made my heart stop. My kodo was knee-deep in thick black tar and sinking fast. Denali bellowed, bringing her heavy footpads out of the muck. They trailed strings of sticky black tar and make a sucking sounds at the suction pressure. As she put her foot down to pull out another limb that foot became trapped again. I dropped the reins and ran to her side, very mindful of where I treaded. She was struggling and bawling loudly, and as she struggled her movements sank her deeper and deeper. It was at that point that I noticed the multitudes of skeletons of large creatures lining the bog. They had all met their fate in the bog and it was claiming Denali as its next victim. I screamed and tugged on the reins, but it was no use. By this point she was submerged up her to shoulders and she groaned at me pitifully. I clambered atop of her, praying that my weight wouldn't sink her faster, and I unbuckled the straps of her barding and saddle. It wasn't enough, the suction of the bog was too much for her and she could barely move now. She lay down in the muck, her body heaving with exhaustion, and she stopped trying to free herself. I begged her to hold on as I ran into the jungle, looking for something to help. I came across I fallen tree and inspiration came to me. I began hacking into the wood, trying to make a ramp of sorts to pry her free. My weapons were not suited to the task and the light was failing, but I screamed my prayers to the Earthmother to aid me in my task. I dragged the logs back to Denali, who by now was just a still mound in the fading light. I shoved one end of each log into the muck, trying to place them under her front legs. She lay there watching me sadly, all hope gone from her eyes. She had decided to die here, for she had no fight left in her. My ramp was in place, but my kodo lacked the strength to use it. At that point I grabbed my spear, I was shaking with emotion and exhaustion and I placed the tip at her neck. I don't think she understood me, but my actions made it clear enough. "I will not watch you slowly drown. If you will not move, then I will put you out of your misery HERE AND NOW!"_

_She looked at me sadly, and gave one last heave. Her foot found purchase on the log and she slowly began to rise out of the pit. Once that first move was done, she followed up with another step and soon she was beside me on the soil, panting heavily. She collapsed to her knees and I did right alongside her, crying into her body. She was covered in the filthy, sticky muck, but I didn't care- she was alive. Darkness swallowed us as we lay there, catching our breath. Thanks to the blackness I was able to see a flickering light of a fire in the mountains not too far from us. It might have been the camp of an enemy, true, but I was willing to risk finding out. Better that than lying in the dark, easy prey for the creature._

_As I lead Denali up the slope, my heart sank when I saw humans, a dwarf and gnome. I nearly reached for my weapon- for they had seen me, but I saw an orc and several goblins by their sides. They welcomed me to their camp with open arms. I traded some roots that I dug up for a salve to remove the tar from Denali's hide. It seems that these people are explorers here, much like I am. The orc, Petra, is friendly and translates for me to the others. She even has a kodo to keep Denali company. It turns out that the tools I had found belong to the human, named Marshal. He offered me a place by his fire for their return. I am glad I have found this refuge. Even if it means camping alongside pinkies, at least I will be safe from the predators of Un'goro._


	20. Chapter 20

_I was too exhausted last night to write more, but something of interest happened at camp last night. Petra introduced me to a gnome named J. D. Collie who is some sort of researcher interested in the glowing crystals. This morning I attempted to speak with the gnome to learn more. This proved very difficult as Petra had left with the others for a bit and we had a language barrier to get through. When the orc returned she was able to clean up a few of the points of confusion I had, so I now believe I have a complete understanding of the gnome's theory._

_She calls the crystals "power crystals", and spoke of strange pylons that interacted with the crystals, high up in the mountains of Un'goro. She marked their locations on my map and I have decided to head out and investigate these structures. I packed up my belongings and saddled Denali, who was grumpy about leaving as she has grown rather fond of the other kodo, Dadanga. We kept a wide berth of the tar pits this time, not willing to risk passage through the bog again anytime soon. We headed west first, skirting the edge of the crater. We passed a dirt path snaking up into the mountains, I believe it is the path to Silithus. Like the path from Tanaris is does not look well travelled._

_As we walked the ground would sometimes shake and groan. Petra tells me that there is an active volcano in the centre of the crater. I'll admit I didn't know what that was. It's a mountain that spews out fire and molten hot rock from deep down in the earth. I'd like to get a closer look but the orc assured me that it's very dangerous. As we started southwards following the mountain range I saw I large lake in the distance. It was beautiful and I thought it would be a marvellous opportunity of Denali and I to cool off. As we approached I nearly fell out of my saddle as Denali reared up in surprise. I jet of water had shot out of the ground right beside us with such force that the ground rumbles. Petra told me later it is called a geyser._

_This is the strangest place I have ever been. As I jumped into the water I got such a shock, it was hot! Very, very hot! I jumped out straight away and stopped Denali from going in. I think that these hot pools actually support my earlier theory. Imagine this, if there is a large body of water under Un'goro, and the volcano in the middle is heating up that water then the water spirits underground would be agitated by the fire and begin to fight. This would build up enormous pressure and end up shooting the water out of the geyser. I shall have to ask the gnome what she thinks of my theory._

_The crystal pylon was quite obscured in the mountains and it took me some time to locate it. It's an amazing sight. The top of the pylon is mounted with a large crystal which shines like a beacon. This top part rotates slowly, leading me to believe that this pylon is actually a machine with working parts inside. Try as I might I couldn't see any sort of hatch to get inside or any panels on it. It was however covered in strange runes that I have seen before. There are these stone statues that patrol the crater. I do not know what their purpose is, but I think they might be some sort of guardians. They seem incredibly old and their stone bodies are marked with the same runes as the crystal pylons. J.D. said they are golems, left by the Titans. I shall have to ask her what she was talking about. The pillars have alcoves that interact with the coloured crystals of the jungle. I was experimenting with placing different coloured crystals in the alcoves. Sometimes nothing happened, but once when I combined two crystals a strange crystal ward sprung up around me. The crystals were consumed in the process so I tried other crystals to recreate what I had just discovered. Again I tried different combinations and nothing happened, until I put a red crystal in the right alcove and a yellow in the left. Fire erupted all around me in a flare of heat. Luckily the jungle is a relatively damp place otherwise I might have caused a forest fire. I decided not to try any more experiments until I discussed my findings with the gnome._


	21. Chapter 21

_This morning I left early at the first hint of light. I had a long way to travel this day so I packed up my supplies and left in haste. My destination? Silithus. My task here was two-fold: to find out why the jungles of un'goro haven't succumbed to the silithid, or to the deserts that surround it. I have seen the Tanaris desert and the corruption of the silithid that infest it. I have heard that Silithus is suffering far worse and so I led Denali up the steep mountain pass into new territory._

_The first thing I noticed when I rounded the crest of the mountain were the differences between Tanaris and Silithus. Both are deserts and in relatively close proximity to each other, but there the similarities end. Silithus is not nearly so beautiful as Tanaris. There An'she glitters on the white sand and the sky is clear and blue. In Silithus the sand is more of a grainy dirt, more ashen in appearance, and An'she is masked by a cloud of haze. The next thing I noticed were the crystals. They are not the luminescent crystals like Un'goro, but a dark, purplish stone. They remind me of the pillars at the entrance to Un'goro from Tanaris... I wonder if they are made of the same material?_

_I had not travelled far when I came upon a pleasant surprise. I saw familiar tents of Shu'halo make in the distance. It turns out the members of the Cenarion Circle druids are investigating the desert as well. They are concerned by the blight of the silithid and I spoke with them at great length about the creatures. Jarund Stoudstrider, a pleasant enough bull, accompanied me to the Circle's base of operations, here in Silithus. Cenarion Hold is impressive and I took the opportunity to wash and sleep on a comfortable pallet._

_As I lay here in the inn, Mu'sha has risen high in the sky. The Kaldorei and Shu'halo guards patrol the hold vigilantly. The noise consumes everything, the beat of a thousand upon thousand wings drowning out all else. As pleasurable as this bed is, I'm getting a massive headache. Jarund says in time I will not notice it, but right now it feels as though I have a beetle flying around inside my skull. I will not be staying long enough to 'get used to it'. Tomorrow I will head back to Un'goro, after checking out the silithid hives of course. The noise truly concerns me. If there are as many insects here as it sounds like, this might be the greatest threat my people will ever know._


	22. Chapter 22

_I did not sleep very well despite the hospitality of the Cenarion Circle. The droning noise of the Silithid kept me awake, and what few hours of sleep I managed were filled with horrific nightmares. I was relieved when An'she's dull light signaled the morning. After a quick breakfast of Sandworm Dumplings (quite a delicacy actually), I headed out towards the closest hive. It was a towering monstrosity, visible from a distance and casting its shadow over Cenarion Hold. The familiar leg-like spires twitched sporadically as multitudes of Silithid drones swarmed about the towering structures. It is a scene straight from my nightmare. The ground is marred by the same purplish affliction present in Tanaris. It is as though the Silithid are a disease and the poxed purple earth is the symptom._

The Silithid almost seem to be preparing for something, gathering their strength. I say this because although the Cenarion warders are practised in fighting off the bugs, they do not seem to be making attempts to over-run the Hold. If I had to guess, I would say that the Silithid care only for the land they need to expand their colony. They do not see us as enemies to war with, merely obstacles. This makes them even more dangerous- especially if they are as intelligent as I think they are. I am glad the Circle is here to monitor the situation. I feel like I can sleep a little more soundly knowing that these guardians are keeping a diligent vigil.

I would love to explore more of this desert, but I can feel the sands of time running low for me now. In the din of insectoid noise last night I thought I heard sounds coming from my totem. Something was interfering with my communication, but I'm sure something was wrong. My tribe might be in danger and here I am taking the opportunity to explore further than my original goal. I learnt that the Silithid have over-run this desert, and that somehow they have been prevented from likewise taking over Un'goro. That much is clear to me, but what is it that's stopping them? I must find out if I am to complete my rites and I am running out of time. I will return swiftly to the jungle and answer this question once and for all.


	23. Chapter 23

_I spoke to the gnome at great length. Petra has grown frustrated with translating for me so I have developed a means of communicating with the researcher through hand motions, drawings and the occasional translated word. I have a lot to work with now, and although I don't agree with all of it I am very close now to the answers I have been seeking for the past week._

The crystals are the key. There are crystal pylons in the north, east and western mountains of Un'goro. There are none in the south and that is where the silithid have broken through. I believe that these crystals somehow protected this region. As to who created the pylons and why- the gnome and I have agreed to disagree.

I started my journey to the silithid hive infesting the south for one final look. Denali and I were making good time travelling through a part of the jungle I have never seen. It was littered with skeletons of enormous creatures, and very large stegodons hunt these grounds. A few I saw looked very much like the thunder lizards of the barrens. They are much larger and more menacing, and I can see what Rakhalen meant when he described them as being ancestors of the mighty kodo. I was trying very hard to sneak though and avoid their notice when they all started bellowing and running towards me. I had to think quickly to steer Denali out of the stampede as they raced forward trampling everything in their path. At first I thought they were attacking us, but they sped by without so much as a glance in our direction. I soon learned why.

I had stopped Denali so they she could rest after that little bout of excitement, and I had been reaching into my pack for a fresh root for her when I felt a tremor in the ground. I ignored it at first- due to the volcano I had experienced a number of such tremors. This time it was different, it was not a single vibration, but one steady after another. I had only a second to think before a giant creature appeared from around a skeleton and sniffing the air, looked in our direction. Fear paralysed me for a moment- it was no doubt the creature that had kept me awake those nights ago. The beast of Un'goro- the Devilsaur. It saw us and roared, its shriek piercing my ears as it flashed its wickedly long teeth. Denali didn't need any encouragement.

We took off as fast as I think it is possible for a kodo to run. Denali bellowed in her fear and I urged her to keep going. The beast made chase, and as it ran after us its heavy footfalls made the ground shudder and lose rocks would tumble. Denali struggled and slipped as she lost her footing and the beast gained ground, its roars startling parrots from the trees in vivid explosions of colour. As we made our way around trees the Devilsaur simply charged through them, shouldering aside any obstacle.

"Faster girl! You need to go faster!"

I'll admit I wasn't much help. There's not a lot one can do while strapped to the back of a frantic kodo being chased by the largest and meanest thing you have ever seen. I threw a rock at it. I was somewhat lucky, I managed to get the rock quite close to its eye. This however drew the beast's attention to me and it started snapping at me, threatening to tear me right out of the saddle.

I almost fell off when Denali skidded to a halt. I didn't need to ask her why, we had come to the base of the volcano and pools of liquid fire blocked our path. I prepared myself to fight the creature, for there was no way we could skirt the volcano and still maintain our lead in the chase. It was then that I realised that the beast had not slowed. The scent of prey had filled its nose and clouded its head. It was fixated on the kill and not what was ahead. I turned Denali around and waited for the beast to come. My kodo bawled and whined, not liking what was ahead or behind her.

"Steady girl, easy now." I tried to calm her and keep her in place. When the Devilsaur was nearly upon us, when I could see the blood-stains on its teeth and smell its foul breath, I kicked Denali hard and she darted aside without hesitation. The Devilsaur finally noticed the lava pools and skidded as it tried to stop. The beast slid into the liquid fire and roared in agony as it was scorched. It suffered burns to a good portion of its legs and tail but managed to climb out of the pit. I eyed it warily, it was wounded but it could still put up a fight. It snarled and began to limp off. I'll admit for a moment I felt sorry for the creature, after all it was in a lot of pain when all it wanted was lunch. On the other hand, it nearly killed me.

_We left the volcano behind us and continued southward. Poor Denali was shaken but recovering as we sighted the familiar twitching spires ahead. I studied the creatures and their blight for some time. I had noticed a difference immediately but it took me a while to realise what it was. It's strange. The land around the silithis infestations in both deserts, Tanaris and Silithus are marked by a purplish blight upon the earth's surface. This blight was absent in Un'goro! I believe that this could be the earth's reaction to the silithid. Earlier I described the silithid as a disease and the purple scars as a symptom. What if our earth is developing her own immunity? What if she is fighting back? The thought fills me with excitement and I can't wait to report back my findings._

Denali and I quickly skirted the silithid hive as we continued onward towards the southern mountain range. The gnome was right, there's no sign of a crystal pylon anywhere. The silithid and the crystals are no doubt connected. So now it is with great pride that I write my final entry in Un'goro. When I return to my people I will be stronger and wiser for this test. Thank you, my Earthmother and my spirit guide, thank you.


	24. Chapter 24

_I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. What a day... I returned to the bluffs and saw all of my old friends. They were all happy to see me, they welcomed me back with smiles and it felt so good to be home. Then it went downhill. Someone mentioned something about a bank and that reminded me that I needed to get my grandmother's totem back from the Goblin bank in Ratchet. My tribemates instantly were worried, they said that the goblins were trying to swindle me. How could I have been so trusting? Lohawq, Daethon and Roakkeal came with me to Ratchet as I confronted the banker. He said something about me being considered dead after a week and my totem was now their property. But you know what? They had sold it before the week was up- so they planned to deceive me all along. Daethon was able to bribe the goblin into revealing more information. He said that a Night Elf bought it and it was transferred to their branch in Winterspring. I feel so terrible about it, but my friends have offered to help me recover my grandmother's crystal owl._

Oh I nearly forgot to mention, I'm going to be a Brave! Lohawq gave me the news almost as soon as he saw me. I'm so excited. He says I can begin my training as soon as I am made kin after the next tribe meeting. Daethon was a bit funny about it though. He was really angry at Lohawq and cautioned him against going to hard on Roak and me (he's training to be a Brave also). Lohawq replied that he has to be hard, for our own sake. I'm still excited, no matter what Daethon says.

I got to go on my first patrol today, something I'll be doing a lot as a Brave. We started at Bloodhoof village and travelled to Camp Narache. As we returned we heard a cry for help and went to investigate. We found a druid who had lost his gorloc friend. I got to meet it later, a gorloc is a small murloc that can talk! It was quite cute actually. Anyway, his gorloc had been taken by the Palamane gnolls and he was corncerned for its safety. The others all got to raid the gnoll caves but I was ordered to stay with Kuyahnee. I was really grumpy about that. They got to go and fight gnolls and rescue a gorloc! I had to play babysitter. Kuya refused to sit still and then she shouted that she had seen some swirly thing in the distance. The Chief came running over and ordered me to take her back to Bloodhoof. I didn't even get to see the gorloc's rescue. I bet it's because I'm not kin yet. Or maybe they think I don't know how to fight. I survived a week in Un'goro! I think I can handle a few gnolls. So back at Bloodhoof Kuyahnee fell asleep by the fire and I kept a watch. Some considerable time later Roak came to fetch us. We'd missed out on all the fun and now there was something going down.

We swiftly returned to the bluffs and were immediately ordered to the hunter's rise. We waited in the main tent with what looked to be a good number of Earthspear kin. I didn't know what was going on and while we waited I had to listen to an awkward conversation regarding Anocken. She's just become the Head Brave's second but she refused to come because she was busy with her second mate! I've decided that I don't understand her at all.

A blood elf and Shu'halo came to us and spoke with the Chief. I was towards the back and caught only glimpses of what was being said when suddenly I heard screams to evacuate. I ran out of the tent with the others and could not believe my own eyes. The bluffs were under attack! Fire elementals tore through the tent we had just been inside as all manner of people attacked my own. I recognised the foul creature Apophan among them. My tribemates leapt into action, trying to put out the fires, summoning aid and fighting of the attackers. As I looked around the chaos I realised that I couldn't see Kuyahnee anywhere. I ran back into the tent. It was billowing with smoke as fires consumed its sides but I could hear soft coughing towards the back. I pushed forward and found Kuyahnee and Tasicala cowering at the back of the tent. I screamed at them to get out, my lungs filling with smoke and reducing every second breath to a cough. I managed to get Kuya out but there was no sign of Tasicala. I went back in to look for her but I could see nothing through the foul smoke. I came back outside for air when I screamed in fright. The Apophan teleported right on top of me! I screamed at first in fear and then I screamed for Kuya to run. I drew my spear and attempted to buy her a moment of time. I saw the lighting coming towards me, then I cannot remember any more. Only the blackness.

I awoke in a bed in the inn with Crowstorm tending to my wounds. I was relatively unscathed and so I began to scour the bluffs for others to aid. Felgar was particularly hard hit, I think he fell off the bluffs. I spent the rest of the night tending to the wounded. I am so tired I can barely...


	25. Chapter 25

_My dreams were interrupted last night with whispers emanating from my totem. It was Ushi, calling to me. At first I was so relieved to hear from him, so happy that he hadn't been hurt. But then I learned the awful truth. Ushi had betrayed the Earthspears. He had attacked Pherala and aided the Apophan. He told me things, he said that it was all an act so that he could get closer to the Apophan. He said that the Exiled One, Huatar was with him and that together they would undermine the snake from within. He said that he trusted me..._

That damned riddle still plagues me. My duty is to my people and to my heart. Why must I be pulled in two directions? Ushi didn't explicitly tell me not to say anything, I keep reassuring myself in the vain hope that it will ease my conscience, but I know he told me what he did in confidence. I wanted to be true to my old friend and yet, my duty to my people demanded that I inform the Chieftain. When I saw Bestiarius injured and alone in the first rays of morning light, I knew what I had to do.

So I told him, I told him everything. He was so badly broken that he could barely speak, but I understood what he said. Ushi is not to be trusted, he is not to be spoken to. He has been declared kill-on-sight. My heart broke a little for my old friend, but that changed when I spoke to Pherala later that morning.

Ushi had told me that he barely touched Pherala, that he did attacked her only to make his betrayal look believable. I saw her wounds. I dressed them and saw how horridly deep they were. When Pherala awake she confirmed my fears. "Ushi almost killed me." She said.

He's a liar.  
A betrayer.  
And I fell right for it.


	26. Chapter 26

_Elder Lightfur has promised to teach me how to turn Daethon upside-down once I'm a Brave. I can't wait! I'll get him back for his trick yet... Dae introduced me to a very strange Shu'halo he called "Moonie". She's some sort of fortune teller but she referred to herself as a Star Reader. She says she takes the Earthmother's hidden messages and translates them for us. She's peculiar I'll admit, she called us "Star Children" and gave me the nickname "Tiponi Youngstar" for my supposed youth and curiosity. I suppose I like it. If I'm not careful I'll end up with more nicknames than I'll know what to do with. Daethon says the fortunes she told him came true, and even gave him some warning about the attack. I wish he'd warned me about it... She read my fortune for me. I was rather unnerved by the whole thing. Her answer was another riddle and her eyes flashed into milky white as she clasped my hand and spoke of strange things. She called me compassionate and self-less, but also weak-willed and often easily led. Humph! She doesn't know me at all. Then she babbled about planets and alignments for a bit. I didn't understand a word she said until she tried to clarify. She said I will have a grave misfortune when my "water planet" crosses the "dark planet", but then after midsummer it will move to cross An'she and then I will "shine". I am hopelessly, utterly confused. What good is a fortune if I don't understand it?_

It was good to have a relaxing day in the bluffs. Everyone's recovering from the attack well, wounds are healing, and preparations are being considered. Anocken has been demoted. I feel bad for her, but I'm not surprised after what she did. She's disappeared with Felgar and his troll-mate, even after the Chieftain ordered us to stay put here in Thunderbluff.

I'll admit I'm growing antsy. I need to get to Winterspring to chase the lead on my totem before it's lost forever. How can I ask the Chief for permission to leave? I heard over the totem how angry he got at Pherala for leaving to get additional healing. I'm... I'm not sure. I'm feeling trapped again. Stifled. This what I abandoned my family for? If I'm shackled here then I've exchanged one set of circumstances for the same, but worse. Worse in that I dishonoured my father, and I face attacks from evil people on a seemingly regular basis. Did I make a mistake in joining the Earthspears? I hope the Chief lifts the ban soon, I hate living with regrets.


	27. Chapter 27

_The day started out like any other. I made a new friend, and listened to the wonderful tales at the circle. I can recall the exact moment that everything changed. Felgar was speaking. He was telling a funny poem when I saw the shadow lurking in the background behind the fire. Ushi. I lost all sense of what Felgar was saying as my thoughts ran on their own tangent. Ushi. Traitor. Kill-on-sight. The circle ended in chaos. The Earthspears moved to attack Ushi and he taunted them, easily outmanoeuvring their attacks. I hung back, I was unarmed and unarmoured and there were plenty of others such that I did not wish to get in their way. A druid appeared, one I've seen before with the Apophan. She and Felgar duelled it out while Ushi was subdued. Ushi was killed._

I didn't stick around for the rest of it. I heard that the Chieftain interrogated the druid prisoner and ordered her execution, but that she escaped. I hope she at least had some valuable information... I travelled to Sun Rock where Ushi's remains were to be burned. I helped build the funeral pyre and watched his corpse turn to ash. There were not many of us there, few wished to attend a traitor's funeral, so half our number were made up of Adalina's elven friends.

I'll admit I behaved poorly. My mind was raging in my hurt and when I heard Roakkeal thanking Ushi for all the good he did in life I just snapped. I kicked dirt at the corpse in frustration and told him that I didn't thank him at all for manipulating, lying, betraying and hurting me. The others speak as if he is at peace, returned to his good old self in the Earthmother's arms. How does he deserve that? After all he did. If there is only one place to go, for the good and evil, does this mean that when I die I will be faced with Ushi, the Apophan, or my mother's killers? Will I smile at them because everything's magically all better now? It's not better! Death is too good for Ushi.


	28. Chapter 28

Notes for Tiponi's Rites: KEEP OUT__

My task was two-fold: to investigate why the Un'goro jungle has not fallen prey to the silithid or to the deserts which surround it.

I wish I could tell you it all. I experienced so much, good and bad, and my heart soars with the memories I now cherish. So first I would like to thank you, my kin, for entrusting me with this task.

I saw too many wonders to speak of, so I will tell those tales perhaps another time. Let me cut straight to the core of the matter and tell you my findings.

Firstly, there are strange coloured crystals which litter the crater. They glow with an ambient energy and be classified into four distinct groupings by colour.  
  
_(Remember to give out crystal samples)__._

They are called power crystals and they interact with these strange... machines I've taken to calling crystal pylons.

These pylons are found in the north, east and western mountains. They are absent in the south and that is where the silithid have broken through.

It is my belief that the Earthmother, or her first spirit children, placed these pylons around the perimeter to protect the jungle.

I saw no sign of a ruined pylon to the south, which leads me to believe that whoever put these pylons in place, assumed that the ocean to the south of Un'goro would prove to be an effective barrier.

This leads me to my next point. I believe that the Un'goro jungle is not a desert because the little water that falls on its neighbours flows down into the crater and soaks deep into the ground.

I saw a number of things that support my theory: a waterfall, ruined boats, threshadon carcasses, the strange roots of the trees and the water pools boiling from the volcano.

Un'goro is lush and green because there is an underground water source.

It is also possible that if water deterred the silithid, as is probable due the placement of the missing southern pylon, that the silithid have been impeded in their infestation of Un'goro because they have encountered the Un'goro water source in their burrowing.


	29. Chapter 29

_I am finally officially Kin of the Earthspear tribe. Today at the meeting I spoke of my discoveries in Un'goro to those assembled. I was incredibly nervous, I don't like being the centre of attention, but despite my shaking I managed alright. My moment was spoilt somewhat by Tasi's new friend Alastyrr. He seemed nice enough when we were introduced, but after I had made my presentation to the Elders he spoke out about the fact that I did not mention the Titans. The gnome researcher said the same thing, that the crystal pylons were created by these great beings called Titans... but she also said that these Titan's created all life on this world- not our Earthmother, hence why I disregarded that nonsense. Then when that bull brought it up I felt like a failure. I was worried that my kinship might be taken away moments after it had been granted, but luckily it seems like my worries were for naught._

They spoke briefly of Ushi at the meeting. Pherala was chastised publicly for disobeying the Chieftain. I felt very embarrassed for her and I knew that I needed to obtain the Chief's permission to go to Winterspring more than ever now. Padania had become a Brave again. She wishes to fight until the last possible moment when her babe will prevent it. Lohawq has been promoted to the Head Brave's Second in Anocken's stead, and Onidanaa has been made a Warden. I am happy for my kin. We are moving on from the last tragedy stronger than ever before.

I spoke to the Chief once the meeting was done. At first he was adamant that I would not go, but then he conceded. I can go to Winterspring if I can convince my kin to aid me. I'm sure Dae will jump at the offer. He wanted to train in Moonglade and it is on the way. Roakkeal and Lyra will likely offer to help as well. I loathe putting my friends in danger because of my stupid mistake, but now it seems like it is the only chance I'll get at getting my grandmother's totem back.

Speaking of Dae, I met his friend Mashira again today. She's a nice girl and I'm happy that they're an item. I find it rather strange. I felt all weird and horrible after finding about his involvement with Sisika, but when I see Mashira and him together getting close I feel only happiness for them. I'm glad that my bout of weird hormonal emotion hasn't resurfaced. Besides, Daethon is so much fun to tease!


	30. Chapter 30

_Choice.  
It always comes back to choice._

Daethon, Roakkeal and I were making preparations for our journey into Winterspring. For a moment I was worried that Lohawq would forbid our journey despite the Chieftain's approval, but I was mistaken. He simply wished to come along to ensure our safety. We travelled through the elf lands on borrowed kodos. The forest is amazing, I have never been so far north. The trees seem to glow with magic and ghostly lights play in the canopy. The road was well tended and lit by the Kaldorei magic. I wouldn't recommend touching the glowing lights though. It was an abrubt change when we passed into the sickly part of the forest. Felwood they call it, an apt name. The entire forest is corrupted with foulness. Roakkeal introduced us to a friend of his. A strange bear-man he referred to as a furbolg. After some debate the furbolg allowed our party passage through their tunnels to Winterspring.

I instantly wished I had brought a warmer cloak, the chill in the air seemed to cut straight to my bones. I have seen snow distant on the mountain peaks before, but this was the first time I got to actually see it up close, in my hands. It's strange, it looks almost fluffy from a distance, but closer up it is more like ice and melts to slush in my hands and beneath my hooves. We quickly headed for the goblin town of Everlook to follow up on the lead. Lohawq and Daethon did most of the talking with the goblin banker. Like the one in Ratchet he was unwilling to give us information unless we paid for it. Daethon bribed him and he told us that the Night Elf who bought my grandmother's totem trained wintersaber cats to the far north.

We left swiftly after that. It turns out that Daethon had tricked the goblin. He had come prepared with a bag full of fake coins. I was worried that the goblins would attack us, and that we would be hunted in every goblin port hereafter, but Lohawq reassured me. He said that it was unlikely that the goblin would even own up to the fact that he was tricked by a Shu'halo.

We headed north through the carpet of white. The others tried to track the elf by foot print or smell while I tagged along rather uselessly. We came to a rocky outcrop and knew this to be the place due to the many packs of roaming cats. Lohawq quickly spotted our quarry, a male Night Elf stood high up on a peak with a purple wintersaber pet. It all happened so quickly that I almost cannot put it in words. He had spotted us, Lohawq called out to him, tried to tell him that we mean no harm- we only wanted to recover my stolen property. I think Daethon and Roakkeal were shouting too, it's all a blur in my mind. One moment I was so sure of everything, I knew I had to get the crystal owl back and I knew what had to be done, then suddenly the Kaldorei was dead and it all changed. I panicked at first, he didn't have the totem among his possessions. He did however have a small portrait of himself outside a house and luckily Roakkeal thought he recognised it. So we left the body where it had fallen in the snow and trekked to a small villiage further south. We began searching the building. I noticed a smaller hut, separate from the main dwelling and I left Roak, Dae and Lohawq behind to investigate. I was not at all prepared for what I found.

_I found my totem. And a girl. It was a Night Elf. I'm no expert on their species but by her size I judged her to be very young. She had my grandmothers totem hanging around her neck. I faltered at that point. I was young when my mother had been cruelly taken from me, and in the pursuit of recovering this treasure I had robbed this girl of her father. Over a stupid misunderstanding. She stared up at me with big eyes, they started water when she saw the dried blood staining my hands. I left quickly. I left the totem with the girl, it is hers now. I didn't know what to say to my friends, after we had come so far and done so much, for me to simply give up now. I told them I was done here and I didn't get to explain further. I roar echoed simultaneously through our totems. Pherala has been exiled, banished for conspiring with the enemy. I could only think, "Not again." I had trusted her, as I had trusted Ushi. As I trusted all my kin. How many more will fall? In many others is my trust misplaced? I cannot begin to doubt them now, for then I will doubt them all. As it is I am wrestling with my own doubts of self._

Will that young girl spend her life dreaming of vengeance against me? If she comes will I honestly be able to stop her? Knowing full well what I deserve. Have I become the very thing I despise? I had been so excited at the thought of becoming a Brave. I would be of use to my kin, I would have a place, a purpose... I don't want to kill any more people... Tears mar the page.

It comes back to choice. When I spoke with the Star Reader, Moonie asked for my time of birth. She said that information gave her the answers to her prophecies. I asked her this, "If her predictions are accurate, if everything happens for a reason according to the Earthmother's purpose, then do we even have a choice at all? If I am destined to fail, destined to experience this grave misfortune she spoke of, then is there any point in trying to alter my destiny? I often have wished that the Earthmother had blessed me as she has my brother and my friends. Perhaps she did't because she already knows the extent of my failure. She knew from my birth, and all I do now is a merry dance for her amusement. The thought turns my stomach... I don't know what to think! What to do! If I am destined to be a bitter failure, to be pathetic and worthless, then what choice do I have?

What choice?


	31. Chapter 31

_I've begun my Brave training with Lohawq. He is a... He is a tough master. I fear that I am not improving fast enough for his liking. He started training me in a wider variety of weapons than I am used to. I sparred with Roak at one point. I was so hesistant, I didn't want to hurt him and I had so many doubts swirling in my head. How can I raise my weapon to kill? After what happened in Winterspring. Who is my enemy and who is my friend? The Head Brave came down to watch which only increased my nervousness. Lohawq tasked me with disarming Roakkeal of his weapon, and punished me with laps around the bluffs with every hesistation, every mistake that I made. He is cruel, but effective. Towards the end I didn't really care anymore, about hurting Roak or about my worries. I just wanted him to stop adding punishments. I didn't disarm him fast enough, or at all, and was punished for that... I knew that my training wouldn't be easy... but this? This is torture..._

I had a good time today with Daethon, Roakkeal and Lyra after the meeting. Cheif Bestiarius declared both Padania and Adalina to be his Chieftesses. They kissed, in public! I saw their tongues swirling! It was so gross... Oh yes, after the meeting we played in the rain. We went out into the hills of Mulgore and rolled down the grassy slopes. And threw mud at eachother. It was a whole lot of silly fun. I haven't done that in a long time. Last time I played like that was with my brother... I wonder what he's doing now? We then went down to the lake to wash the mud off. We had a lot of fun splashing in the pool. I couldn't swim with my clothes on they were too heavy, so I took them off and swam in my smallclothes. I wasn't even embarrassed in front of the bulls! I think I see them more as my own family... Besides, they promised not to peek. After the swim they started talking about something and deliberately leaving me out of it. I could tell. They think I'm not old enough. I was too happy to be angry at them for that. I'll show them.

We went back to the bluffs and started looking for the Chief or one of the Elders. Daethon remembered that we had forgotten about my party in Orgrimmar, to celebrate my rites. Roakkeal didn't seem happy about the idea. He and Daethon argued a little about whether Lohawq should come or not which was strange. I forgot all about it when a strange black bull approached me. At first I thought he was just being polite, but then he started leering at me and saying things that made me uncomfortable. Luckily Dae and Roak were there to defend me. I feel awful that I should need defending, but to be honest, when that bull approached me as he did...I didn't even think of reaching for a weapon. I felt small and powerless. I'm so glad my friends were there. Whatever would I do without them?


	32. Chapter 32

_I punched Daethon. I hit him hard, in the jaw, with nearly all my might. Might make him sore for a bit... I apologised afterward, I severely over-reacted, but I had cause. Daethon was a shivering wreck throughout the meeting today. From the snippets I heard I managed to piece together what was upsetting him. His father is alive and coming for him. He seemed surprised that I figured it out. Does he really think I'm that stupid? He wasn't acting at all like his usual self. He was scared. He was talking about running away. I pleaded with him to go to the Chief. Thank the Earthmother that Roak was there. He should be able to make him see sense where I failed. I was worried for a moment that I had been deceived again... just like Ushi. My heart broke in the same wound and the pain of it overcame my sense for a moment. That's when I hit him. Surely he'll do the right thing? If we're in danger, Mashira especially, we must be warned and we must be prepared._

Lohawq has set me... homework. He has other duties to attend to and so we have not been training together as often as I think he would like. He has tasked me with running laps of the bluffs and fighting the practise dummies in my own time. Every day. Two drums! For the love of our Earthmother I think he enjoys tormenting me. I nearly collapsed tonight with exhaustion, how can I keep this up? Every day...

The Chieftain spoke today about identity. Who is it we are? I do not know the answer to that question. I have been so full of doubts lately. I left my family. I abandoned them for selfish reasons. Reasons that I thought this tribe would see. A means to an end. I thought I would have more chance with the Earthspears, of achieving my dreams. Lately it seems they are further away than ever. How long until the ban is lifted? Will I ever get to explore the far reaches of the world or is Thunder Bluff my prison? It is a larger prison than my village back home, but a prison nonetheless. And what of the Chief and the Elders? I know so little of their plans. I had been so excited to be a Brave, but now I see an ulterior motive. They train me up, so that I am indebted to them. They keep me here, to patrol their lands until I am old. Then they get me with calf and I settle down. Some many of them are popping out babies... I will not be held here! I yearn to be free. Am I imagining things? Perhaps these people truly do care for me as kin. I certainly would never had met Daethon and Roakkeal otherwise. But. Have I made a mistake Earthmother? In joining the Earthspears? They are under attack constantly. I am another sword. They have deceivers in their ranks. Am I being manipulated? They disregard their own Chieftain. Is this entire tribe a farce? I saw her, the exile, being welcomed to the circle with open arms. I couldn't believe my own eyes. If she is not punished for her actions, then why am I so worried about disobeying the Chief's orders. Why should I care that he tells me to stay here. There are no bars on my prison, only my honour keeps me here, and if that honour is founded on a lie, then... well. Perhaps I will leave after all. In the dead of night. There is a zeppelin...


	33. Chapter 33

_Damn it all to fel._

I couldn't go through with it. I'm such a wuss. I had the ticket and everything. My fare was paid with the little silver I've managed to scrape together since my return from Un'goro. The goblin was ushering me aboard and... nope. I couldn't do it. I berated myself for ages, questioning my own sanity. I've wanted to be gone for so long and here I had the means in my hand, and before my hooves... I think I've worked it out...

When Ushi betrayed me I felt... I don't know the words that will do the pain justice... betrayed? Hurt? Not quite... I hated him for what he did, for his deception. And what of Pherala? Her stupid decisions to constantly betray the Chief's direct commands. Just like Ushi. I nearly made the same mistake. If I had taken that zeppelin, sure I would have gotten my wish... but at what price? I would have become like them... Even if the only thing holding me here is my honour, by the Earthmother I will see to it that it holds. I will not become like then. Eventually I will be given my chance. I will prove to them that I am worthy. I will train every day. Not for two drums, oh no. I will train until I lose all sense of time. I will be their sword, and when I have become the mightiest warrior this tribe has ever known, I shall set forth from here and the entire world shall hear of it!

This I vow.


	34. Chapter 34

_I've just had the best day in... in a long time. I haven't felt so happy, so carefree and elated since... well since before the attacks began. I'm free! Lohawq told me today that the ban has been lifted. I think Roak and I might have jumped up and down with joy if Lohawq hadn't been there. Orgrimmar here I come! But first, I need to dig Daethon out of his slump. There's a party waiting for me and I want my two best friends to be with me._

I trained with Lohawq again below the bluffs. He let me keep my spear this time and I looked at it not as torture, but as a challenge. I landed his butt in the dirt! Twice! Yeah I got cut too, but it was totally worth it. I've gotten better, but I don't think it's the training, or the laps that's doing it. It's my perspective. I want to get better now, and I'm trying hard. I'll take any advice they give me. I will take all their knowledge and skill and use it to forge myself into a strong weapon. I'm also developing my own way of fighting. It's all well and good for the bulls to talk about strength and disarming your opponent and what-not. But it won't be easy for me. I am small, I am light, I am fast. I can turn these into advantages if I do it right. Like today, I tried something that I haven't been taught, and I was only able to pull it off because I am light and quick on my feet. When Lohawq knocked me off balance, I planted my spear in the dirt and used to vault myself forward, hooves first into Lohawq. It totally caught him by surprise. No wonder, he's too big to try that trick himself. I have been blind to the gifts the Earthmother has given me. I saw them to be disadvantages when really they were hidden strengths. I wonder who else uses this style of fighting? Maybe I should speak with the trolls. There will be plenty of opportunity now. The world is mine.


	35. Chapter 35

_Twice in as many days I have been to Moonglade. Twice now I itched to throw my blade in, against those who would bring death to its tranquil garden. And twice now I find myself in the same position._

It started yesterday on the bluffs. I was speaking with Roakkeal and Lohawq, wishing them happiness and congratulations on their upcoming bonding ceremony. I left them to show Lohawq my new armour. My Grandmother's old set of... let's face it, ruined leather scraps, was no longer sufficient. I took out a loan again. Not with goblins! I will never trust those greedy green little gnats again for as long as I live. I have managed to borrow a set from the smiths. It's tarnished and old, but at least it fits me and protects me. Looks aren't everything... As I left Roak and Lohawq to get my armour from the inn I noticed Tasi talking to a Death Knight. It's bad enough that they taint our sacred land with their presence, and I was appalled that she was speaking with it. When I heard it reply her as I walked past, I froze mid-step and my blood ran cold.

"I am Aliden Silvermane."

He saw me stop so suddenly. He knew. I raced back to the others to tell them what I'd heard but in the meantime he cowardly fled through a gateway portal. By the time I had informed them, he was gone. It was then we began speaking of Daethon. After all that talk of him running away, and me begging him not to be so foolish, the fel-forsaken fool went off alone. Not only that but he had abandoned Roak to be alone with his father. Daethon is not the friend I thought he was. He is a coward, and he defies our tribe.

Rakhalen ordered Lohawq to fetch him from Moonglade, for he had left a letter telling us his whereabouts. Another thing I do not understand. If we ran away to protect us, then why tell us where to find him? Drawing us out away from the safety of the bluffs? I find myself doubting him more and more. I see him as another Ushi now. He has broken my trust. While the tribe still accepts him, so shall I. But things will never be as they were.

_Lohawq ordered me and Roakkeal along as well, for training or perhaps as backup. Lyra found Daethon in Nighthaven. We exchanged a few words, and I could tell that Lohawq was even more frustrated and disappointed in Daethon's actions than I was. It was then that Aliden attacked. The coward grabbed Daethon and held a dagger to his throat. He then began to talk, on and on about his evil plans and such. If he weren't threatening one of my kin I might have laughed. I wanted to attack him outright. Try to vault him off the landing while he was distracted. Lohawq forbid us to make the first move on this sacred ground. So we stood at an impasse, the death knight taunting us and trying to turn Dae against us with his lies. I grew tired of it very quickly, but my honour held me and I waited for Lohawq's order. Finally Daethon seemed to get a hold of himself and break free of his father's grasp. The coward fled immediately. What a farce._

We took Daethon back to the bluffs where he was to face judgement for his foolish actions. I did not stick around to watch. There was some talk regarding his punishment. After all, if he were exiled then it would only be easier for his father to achieve his ends. In the end they isolated him to Thunder Bluff. Not that it helped.

This morning I awoke feeling marginally better. I almost forgot about the mess with Daethon when I got a package from my sister. She has sewn me another dress. She is a talented tailor, but it is the gesture more than anything that means the world to be. She hasn't abandoned me. I enjoyed the day in the bluffs and joined Crowstorm as she hosted the story circle. There were unusually few at the circle so I made a story up on the spot about a dream I had not long ago. It wasn't nearly as good as the stories my grandmother would tell.

When the circle ended we heard news through our totems that the Apophan's cult had began attacking Moonglade. I joined with Crowstorm and the Chieftain as we raced to support our troops that were already holding their ground. Blood stained the druid's sacred glade. The battle stretched on for hours and both sides suffered. Lohawq and Roak were both injured as well as Elder Lightfur. I stayed close to the Chieftain as both sides paused before the final clash. We were standing on a rocky outcrop as the Apophan's forces stained Lake Elune'ara walking about its surface with their dark magic. One moment I was standing beside the Chief and the next, an icy cold grip wrapped around my ankle and pulled me into the water below. I saw the form of Aliden Silvermane and I lashed out at him, kicking wildly. He started strangling me, and between that and the water, I ran out of air fast. I'd like to say I put up a fight before he killed me, but I really cannot remember. The darkness began to cloud my vision too fast. If he had wanted to kill me, he could have. The tribe's attention was focused on the Cult and no one had come to my rescue. But he didn't kill me, he said he wanted me to relay a message. He really shouldn't have strangled me first underwater if he had wanted me to remember something important... He said something about only being able to be killed by the powers of four different kinds of healing magic. I have no idea what he meant. And why would he even tell me how to kill him? It makes no sense at all. I woke up on the bank of the lake with Daethon. He was drenched in water as I was. My first thought was, "What are you doing here?" Even in my haze I remembered his ban. He said he could see through his father's eyes in his dreams, and so he came to my rescue. I don't believe I word of it. How could he have come so fast then? I do not trust him any longer.

I met up with Lohawq and Roak and together we left the glade to go back to the bluffs for treatment. The battle was ours. Crowstorm was kind enough to heal my wounds. I was worried I might have lost my powers of speech forever. Why is it the most potent healing herbs are the ones that taste the most foul? I told Lohawq of what transpired with Daethon's father and left it at that. My part in this is played. I am done with it.


	36. Chapter 36

_What's in a name?_

I wonder sometimes how much our own names have an impact on our lives. Some races, I can only assume, don't have this concern. For their names, though creative, lack meaning. Shu'halo names are different. I know where mine came from. Tiponi, named after a great warrioress. An adventurer, a brave heroine. She was the most amazing Shu'halo to ever come out of my tribe, and she was my grandmother. She told me it's meaning, one day high on a hilltop as we gazed out across the plains of Mulgore. "Child of Importance." How did they know she would be so? And how can I possibly live up to her name? I wonder how things would have been different if I had instead been named "She destined to fail." It's like a weight hanging over my shoulders. No matter how hard I try to live up to my grandmother's namesake, I simply cannot compare to a legend.

What's in a name?

I am no longer an Earthspear, but kin of the Stormtotem tribe. It's only a name change. Only a name... Yet it represents a change in ideals. I... do not know what to make of it yet. We are the same tribe, and yet we are not. I suppose time will tell how deep the changes lie...

It is a time of change for me too. I have seen battle before, as a helpless bystander. I have been in fights to the death, and I have emerged with blood on my hands. Never yet have I waded onto the field of war. No longer.

Today, Lohawq took me into Warsong Gulch. I was to lend my spear to the armies of the Horde. I swore I would do him proud. We made our way into Ashenvale, and although I was nervous, I was also excited. This was a test of my skills, a test of whether I am worthy for the title of Brave. The field was littered with the skeletons of war. Not people, for the bodies of each side were removed during the night, but the wrecked remains of ballistae and ruined flags dotted the landscape. As the sun rose, both sides stirred, and then as one came together like a mighty wave. I lost sight of Lohawq at first, I was too caught up in the swing of battle. I barely even noticed my opponents as I cut them down. They were Horde, or they were not. Nothing else mattered to my blood-frenzied mind. The Alliance broke through the horde lines and we began to retreat. I looked around for Lohawq and couldn't see him at all. I began to worry that he had become a casualty. I found him, following a trail of blood into the back rooms of our camp. His ankle had been viscously twisted in a fight and he was unable to support his own weight on it. He could barely move. He would be easy prey for the Alliance. I made the decision there to stay by him and defend him. We were joined by an elf ranger who, upon a quick inspection of his wounds, took up her bow alongside us. Lohawq and her picked off any attackers from afar, and those that made it through their hail of arrows met my blade. I do not know how long the battle lasted, but it wasn't long before I heard the Horde horns sounding retreat. The Alliance had beaten us back today, but Lohawq assured me that such was the ebb and flow of battle, and the Horde would quickly recover the lost ground. Lohawq and I returned to Thunderbluff.

I met with the Head Brave Rakhalen to report our progress. He seemed happy enough with my progress and has informed me that in three days I will fight against one not of my kin, to earn my place as a Brave among the tribe. I am terrified.

Is it strange that I fear disappointing my kin more than my own death?


	37. Chapter 37

_I saw my Uncle Chamassou yesterday. I suppose I'm too old to keep calling him that, but I've never known it any other way. He met with Daethon and Lyra and seemed to get on with them well enough. For a hermit anyway. He embarrassed me. He called me by childhood nickname in front of my kin, and then before all gathered at the Circle. Perhaps it is time that he learned how much I have grown..._

I led the Story Circle. So many of us are exiled now. There are few left to hold the torch. For the first time since I have joined this tribe, I feel like we are outweighed by the opposition against us. So many dishonourable members bring us down from within our own ranks. I am ashamed of my people. I had thought that it was in a Shu'halo's nature to be honourable, but now I see that to be a foolish dream. So many have fallen, so few remain. Our enemies are legion, and my kin squabble over their heated passions. They put their own selfish urges before the needs of the tribe. They disgust me.

If I am the last one standing with any honour or pride, then so shall it be. I shall only pity them for their loss.

Forgive my curt words. I am in agony. I met with an elf priest who sought the Chieftain, and she tried to heal my wounds. I told her not to, for they teach me a lesson. They teach me that when the choice comes again, to choose between dodging a rock or a spear- choose the spear. Ugh. It hurts to breathe. Never mind. The salve works quickly and I will be as good as new in a few suns. Better yet, I will be a Brave, finally.

Rakhalen lied. He said that I would fight someone not of my kin for my rites. I was surprised, somewhat, but another part of me seemed to accept it. I fought with Lohawq, and it was a hard fight. He has sparred with me before, and he knows my tricks. He knows that I use my speed to make up for my stature, and he turned my own strength against me. I won in the end, though it nearly killed me.

I need to change my bandages.


	38. Chapter 38

_THAT INFURIATING BULL!_

Daethon ruins everything! I went to Orgrimmar for the first time. It was amazing! It was crowded with all sorts of people and it was busy and noisy... and smelly. I saw the sights and ended up in a tavern where I heard some funny trolls singing. I've tried to memorise the song for the Circle. There was an orc there who kept buying me drinks. I thought he was just being nice! I hadn't found any I liked so he was just giving me an opportunity to try them all.

Because he was nice.

Now Daethon comes along and says those... those horrible disgusting things! I can't believe he talked to me like that! I can't believe...

Urgh. I've let him get to me. He's finally won.

No. Not yet. I will get him for this. Oh yes. My revenge will be sweet.


	39. Chapter 39

_Daethon and I are still fighting. It's like how I used to fight with my brother Kwahu, but it seems to be escalating. When we got out of hand, father would call us down for it. We would apologise and be friends again. Perhaps I was waiting for father to appear..._

I know why I'm angry at him. He made a sincere request of me, and I obliged, but when our positions came to be reversed he had no such respect... And it escalated, because I'm so angry and he won't apologise. Fel bull probably doesn't even know what he's done to hurt me.

But this can't keep going on. I realised something... Lohawq had chastised Daethon for speaking so rudely to a Brave, which I am now except for the formalities. But I have been acting poorly in retaliation. I need to hold myself higher, above this petty squabbling, so that I do not bring dishonour to the tribe due to my station.

What a mess. I didn't realise what it truly meant when I agreed to become a Brave. It's not just the work, though the training has been hard and I've nearly been killed a few times now... It's the change in my mind. I have to be hard. I have to be a weapon. I have to be strong and firm and exemplary. I need to set an example as to what our kin should strive to be. I have only just realised this... and I have a long way to go. I need to stop the petty fighting for starters. And my open hostility towards the undead. I do not trust them, and their very presence makes my fur bristle, but I must remain calm and polite. It's going to be more than difficult. I've always had a wayward tongue, and my sense of humour more than often misses it's mark. But I will try, for the sake of the tribe.

I will bring honour to my kin.


	40. Chapter 40

_So much has happened, and it's taking me some time to wrap my head around it..._

Roak is back, and the first thing I do is screw things up... We were talking about his adventures in Northrend when the Chief came up. I freaked out a little, as I always seem to do in his presence, but he just sat there and didn't really say much so I started to relax a bit. Roak was telling me about how he tamed a wild worg up North. I can't remember what I said, but somehow I offended Lyra... then the Chief brought out a beer keg and offered me some. Daethon and Roak had warned me about the dangers of getting drunk, but I'd never really felt anything like that before...

Never again. I made an ass out of myself! I'm sure I sounded so stupid, and I upset Lyra and Roak. The next morning I woke up and I felt dreadful. I thought I had been poisoned! Roak was a true friend and he took me to the healer, even though I could tell he was upset with me... then I threw up on Lohawq... Ugh! Never again! I can't believe I was so stupid...

I think that's why I haven't written... I didn't want to admit the horrible mistake I made... but I must. I must wear my mistakes to ensure I don't repeat them, which is why I insisted that the healers leave me with my headache as punishment...

I knew that I had done wrong, and I needed to make it up to my friends. I was going to give Lyra her present for her birthday, but now seemed like a better time anyway. I wonder if she even knows when her birthday is? I think she forgives me. Now I just have to find a way to make it up to Roak.

We went to Northrend later, as part of a hunt. I got to see Northrend! It was quite cold, I kept my cloak on. But it wasn't snowing in the hills. We hunted together as a tribe, Lohawq would shoot his prey, I would butcher it and Roakkeal would skin it. Together we brought back enough supplies to last a whole moon at least.

I've just gotten back from another trip in fact. I had an amazing adventure. My uncle got called up on an important mission on behalf of the Cenarion Circle, and he invited me along! We landed in Shadowprey village on the shores of Desolace where Chamassou met with another bull. He gave me a packet of magical seeds to safeguard during the journey. We headed to Ghostwalker Post to meet up with another druid, but when we arrived there she had already left. She left alone, on foot, in the middle on the night, in Desolace! Apparently she ran off because of some dream. We started to follow her trail, and oh what I wouldn't have given for Lohawq's tracking skills. Still between Chamassou and I, we were able to find her tracks and we realised that she had been kidnapped by the Magram centaur.

Chamassou and I decided that it would take too much precious time to go back for aid, so we staged a stealth raid against the centaur camp. We slaughtered many of their number, even their Khan, after which the war horns quickly began sounding. We found the body of the druid, Tyra Furyhoof beside the Khan. She had written a code in her own blood, in Darnassian, so that only another druid could decipher it. We were lucky Chamassou was there, he said something about "breaking through the seal" and "death coming" or something. I had no idea what he was saying but he interpreted the druids message to mean that the nearby cultists of Mannoroc Coven had managed to open a portal through which something nasty was going to emerge. We raced out of there as fast as we could. I urged Chamassou to assume the form of a bear to carry Tyra back to the kodos. With the warhorns blaring and the thunderous charge of the centaur after us, we fled and sought refuge amongst the demons.

We cut them down as we inspected each way gate for faulty seals. Finally Chamassou found the one he was looking for and while he worked his magic, I held back the demonic horde. He meant to seal up the rift with the magical seeds the druids had given him... but when I gave him back the packet I realised that there was a small hole, and only two remained. I must have been trailing magical seeds over half of Desolace! Luckily the seeds worked, and empowered by Chamassou's druidic magic, the plants enveloped both the way gate and Tyra's body. We sent her prayers that the Earthmother would keep her safely, then we parted ways. Chamassou needed to report back to Nighthaven, and I needed a rest in the bluffs. The sun is rising... what a night...


	41. Chapter 41

_We went to Durotar to the Hornet's Nest. The soil is such a beautiful rich red colour there, but I couldn't help but notice Roak's agitation. I remember him saying the same thing about my dress. I wonder why he hates the colour red so much? The fighting was cut short by the appearance of the traitor Pherala. My kin and I held back, so as not to spoil our diplomatic relations, but I was ready to attack if given the order. It didn't come to that, luckily for her. I heard snippets of the other's conversation. Only pieces because it was none of my business, but I still managed to hear that Pherala is getting what she wants by f****** everything within reach, cultists of otherwise. I'm not surprised. Felgar and Anocken were with us. I'm not sure what has happened to make the Chieftain trust them again, but he told the circle at our tribal meeting that their status would be restored after the next hunt. Well, good for them. I will tolerate their presence, I may even smile at them at make polite conversation. But I will never trust them. They have proven that they are incapable of doing their duty when the heat from their loins is calling. They are no better than Pherala. It's only a matter of time until they betray us, and I will be ready._

Why is it that everyone thinks with their genitals around here? I notice even Crowstorm has fallen victim to the Chieftain's advances. I used to respect her. I used to respect him too. I used to hold him somewhat higher than the rest, our beloved Chieftain. Now I see he is merely like the rest of them. I was talking with a bull the other day, bah I forget his name, but he assured me that it was no fault of mine that I got drunk that fateful day. I'm young, small and inexperienced, and the Chief offered me that alcohol knowing full well what would happen. Bah! He made a fool out of me. I still respect him as Chief, after all, he has shown in the past that he can be a great leader. But I no longer trust his judgement. He forgives the betrayers too easily, and look how that has ended in the past? He has even forgiven Felgar's latest conquest, the cultist Dyrim. It's ridiculous! But I am merely a Brave, what would I know? I will be ready for their betrayal. They will slip one time, and a single mistake will be enough.

I'm sick of this cultist crap. Pherala, Ushi, Felgar and Anocken have tied us to them now it is hard to pull loose. I was moping around Orgrimmar after the Hornet's disaster. Chief's orders were to go home, but bah. I saw him go off to frolic with Crowstorm. Bah to his orders, if he won't follow them himself. I ran into a group of strangers and got to talking with them. I had not yet properly introduced myself when the Stormtotem's name was brought up. They all believe us to be cultists by association. I didn't end up telling them my tribe, I was too ashamed. Are the Stormtotem a cult? Maybe that is why the Chieftain is so forgiving? Maybe that's why they have no loyalty to their mates? I do not want to see this, I don't want to believe it, but what if it's true? The trolls in Orgrimmar urged me to stay away from them, as they would corrupt me. Not the cultists, but my own kin. I don't know who to trust anymore! A few moons ago I would have gone to Crow in a heartbeat, but he has corrupted her. What was in that beer he gave me? Oh Earthmother... I should leave. I need to get away from these people.

But Roak and Lyra... I do not think they're cultists. I have to stay, I need to protect them. Will they think I'm going crazy? I'll have to find evidence. I must find evidence that will either condemn the cultists or, clear the name of my kin. Earthmother please help me.


	42. Chapter 42

Mu'sha's light dimmed as heavy clouds rolled slowly over the city of Thunder Bluff. The high mesas were silent, the shops empty, and the citizens slept soundly in their hammocks. The clopping footfalls of a passing Bluffwatcher made the tiny Shu'halo tense briefly, before she exhaled and continued tying cloth around her hooves. She tested her sound-proofing device hesitantly, peeking around to see if the guard noticed. Success! She grinned wildly and wrapped a large, heavy fur cloak around herself to disguise her body shape. With one last fleeting look back over her shoulder, Tiponi crept out across the bridge.

Her breath was fast, and her heart was pounding. The Tauren city was not a dangerous place at night, but what she planned to do could have grave consequences. "Evidence," she thought, "one way or another, I will find evidence to clear my kin's names, or to prove they are cultists after all." The thought made her hands shake slightly, but she balled them into fists as she made her way silently across the rope bridge.

The Chieftain's hut was before her. It was not unusually large but it had a large trophy of a kodo's horn, head and back d***!d across its opening. There was no light coming from inside. Tiponi bit her lip as she approached the tent and, taking a final deep breath, drew back the cloth opening. She stood very still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside. Empty. She let out a long sigh of relief and tiptoed in. The Chieftain's hut had weapons hanging from every wall, even dangling from the ceiling, as well as trophies from all manner of ferocious beasts. Paws, heads, horns, there was little space left uncovered by it all. Tiponi edged inside and stumbled as her cloth-covered hooves slid across an object on the floor. She toppled but caught herself against the preserved bust of a harpy, stuffed for firmness. She cringed and cursed her clumsiness. The offending object rolled gently to rest against the tent wall. It was an empty bottle of alcohol. The floor was littered with them, like a trap to test her footing. She edged out into the room, carefully stepping around the empty bottles and started rummaging through the Chieftain's personal things. She brought out a strange object, and held it up in the faint beam of moonlight to determine its purpose. Was it a fetish? A cultist ritual object? No, it was a bessie's bra. Tiponi shuddered and threw the thing away into the corner. "There has to be something..." Suddenly her eyes caught upon a glint in the moonlight. She pushed aside a pile of discarded smallclothes and gasped at what she saw. It was the Chieftain's headdress. The feathers were soft and flowed over one another like a bird's wing. The eyes of the skull it formed glowed with ethereal energy. Tiponi regarded it with awe, then smirked as a curious desire overcame her. She picked up the headdress reverently and placed it delicately atop her own horns. It was too large and didn't even sit on her head properly. She giggled as she puffed out her chest and rose to her maximum height. She spoke in a gruff voice, as deep as she could make hers appear, "I am Bestiarius. Marvel at my bullish chest!" She stuck out her tongue, "Not helping..."

Suddenly Tiponi felt a faint breeze swirl into the tent, her ears flattened as she heard a faint sound behind her. "Oh Earthmother, he's returned!" she thought in a panic, but before she could even move a gravelly voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Nobody stands against the cult and lives. Die slowly, former Chieftain."

Tiponi stiffened as she felt a quick movement slash across the top of her head, toppling the headdress from its perch. She spun quickly, but struggled to withdraw her long spear from the heavy cloak d!*! d across her shoulders. A surprised looking orc stood in the doorway to the tent. His left eye was clouded and the flesh below it was scarred horribly. "Who-" he started as he drew two daggers from the straps across his chest.

Tiponi's thoughts moved far quicker than her hooves. The orc had tried to decapitate the Chief, but had failed because she was small, and not the Chief. His blade had gone right over her head in a stroke of luck. Now she was alone, with an assassin, in her Chieftain's tent. Her train of thought was cut short as the orc charged at her, his daggers twirling and spinning with blurring speed. She fell back as she finally managed to wrench her spear loose but the quarters were too small to use it well. She could barely deflect his thrusts let alone attack him back. A dagger got past her block and clanged loudly of her armour hidden beneath the cloak. The rogue frowned and started aiming his thrusts for the gaps in her plate armour.

"You are doomed orc, the guards come for you!" She declared as she deflected a strike with her bracer.

The orc laughed. It was a short laugh, and harsh. "They are dead, and so are you."

Tiponi's eyes widened as she thought of the Bluffwatcher she had snuck past not a drum ago. "You monster!" she growled as she lashed out at him with her hoof. The orc jumped away from the blow deftly but toppled when his footing met empty beer bottles. Tiponi seized the moment and drove at him, but the orc rolled with the movement out of the tent. Tiponi followed him outside, she looked left and right, startled that he had somehow disappeared so quickly. She froze as his voice emerged from the shadows.

"You are not my target girl, but you've seen my face. That means you die." He leapt down at her from on top of the kodo trophy. She spun on the ground to avoid his daggers, but the cloth of her hooves made her footing slip and a dagger narrowly missed her shoulder. She recovered and stood upright, thankful for the room to spin her weapon, but not for long. The orc pressed the attack now that they were on equal footing. His daggers darted forward like a serpent's tongue. They were so close, and though none yet had found their mark, she could not get enough room to bring her weapon to bear. "It looks like you've brought a spear to a sword-fight, girl." He sneered.

Tiponi punched him in the face. He recoiled a little, but his face was as hard as a rock and there was not enough force behind the bessie's blow. He laughed again, a short surprised laugh and then renewed his vigorous assault. Tiponi struggled against his advances, he was clearly the most skilled adversary she had met yet. His daggers slid into the gaps in her armour at the tiniest increments before withdrawing. She bled from a dozen cuts but still he had not killed her. He was toying with her.

"You may just be the fastest orc I've ever met." She grunted between blows.

"Heh, you've got that right." He grinned as he kept up the attack.

"You're also stronger than me I suspect." She admitted as she fell back from his strikes.

"You're quite a perceptive little cow." He sneered.

Tiponi spat a mouthful of blood aside, "Well I have something you haven't got." She grinned wickedly.

The orc paused and straightened slightly, "Oh, and what's that? Your charming personality?" His hacking laugh made her shake with anger, and fear.

"No, this!" she reached into her belt pouch and threw a small object at the orc's head. She backed up as the orc dove for cover and landed in the dirt. He slowly opened his eyes and peeked at the object from between his fingers. It seemed to be a small coyote's paw.

"What!?" he roared, "What in the fel was that?"

Tiponi smiled sweetly. "A distraction." She lowered her spear to his chest, "It looks like you brought a knife to a spear fight."

He frowned, then flipped his dagger to throw it. She pressed quickly, with not a moment's hesitation and the spear sank through his leather armour into his chest. She withdrew the blade quickly, and moved to make a killing strike for a quicker death, but the orc began to melt before her eyes. He groaned in agony as his body shrivelled and blackened, then turned into ash and began to float away in the evening breeze.

Tiponi sagged as the fight caught up with her. She clutched her spear as her knees gave way beneath her and she sank to the dirt shaking.


	43. Chapter 43

_I know that I am young, and that I yet know very little of this world. So I suppose I should not be so surprised by how fast things can change. I should not be, but I am._

The tribal hunt had its ups and downs. The strange murloc people that Lohawq, Roakkeal and I sighted when we scouted the region prior to the hunt had been attacked by the scourge. Felgar must have had sort of connection with them because he flew into a rage and threw himself against the undead. We fought briefly but fiercely, though eventually we had to pull back, their numbers were just too great. I'm not surprised that Felgar refused to retreat and kept fighting, he must be the most stubborn bull I've ever met. But something has changed. I went to defend him. I might have laughed if the circumstances were different. Last week I thought him a traitor... but things have changed. He made a mistake, albeit a bit one, but he has been forgiven, why?

Because we are kin.

He is my brother! Family make mistakes, but you forgive them and love them anyway, because they are family. How could I have gotten myself so blinded and confused? It took a mistake on my part for me to see it. Ok Coyote, you can stop laughing now...

There were many injured and we retreated back to the river to tend to our kin. I warned the Chieftess of my concerns. When we last scouted the jungle, I noticed many glowing crystals that remind me so much of the ones in Un'goro. I'm certain that they are power crystals and that they keep the scourge at bay. But now they have failed and the undead are breaking through. Our guide informed us that one of the five great pillars around the jungle has fallen. We inspected such a pillar and I believe they are just like the magic crystal pylons that protect Un'goro. The fall of one such pillar has let the scourge in. I'm not sure if the Chieftess understood my concerns, she was probably too occupied seeing to our immediate safety.

That's another funny thing. Our guide, who led us safely through the marshlands and told us all sorts of wondrous things about the land that we might never have known otherwise... was a deader. How is it possible? Ha. At first I treated him like every other deader I've met. I was courteous for Roak's sake but distant. Then it changed. He was so... polite, so eloquent, and his voice was so smooth and not... dead. I forgot he was a deader for a moment, and by then it was too late to go back. I can't tell Roak, what would he think?

Now we recover at an outpost across the border in Borean Tundra. Lohawq questioned me about my scratches. Apparently Roak likes to gossip. I confessed about my, little mistake... to the Chief and Lohawq. I told them what happened, why I did what I did and that I was sorry. I also warned the Chieftain about the attempt on his life. There are both very disappointed in me. I should be sad, but I am elated. I have my kin back! I cannot describe how good it feels to know that the ones I call my family, the people who I love and strive to defend are on my side. I don't need to worry any more.

Coyote is a shape-shifter. He embraces change and encourages us to learn from our mistakes. Coyote is proud of me this day.


	44. Chapter 44

_Dire news indeed. Kuya and Elder Lightfur are missing and are presumed kidnapped by two deathknights. Duskblade and Blackleaf. Their names are known to us and it is only a matter of time until we find them. Poor Rakhalen, he is beside himself with worry..._

We are preparing a makeshift camp at Caer Darrow in the plaguelands. Right on the scourge's doorstep. If they dare to attack our kin, then we will bring the fight to them. We met a troll there and his sin'dorei bodyguard, Zera'ti and Rennzer, representatives of the Argent Dawn. I did not presume to ask what they were doing there. I know that they hate the undead with zeal and that their assistance will prove very useful.

While the others secured the camp, the Chief and the elf made plans to go to Silvermoon for supplies. I could not let an opportunity to visit the elven city pass and so I volunteered myself to guard them. The elven lands are truly beautiful. Everywhere I turned I saw majesty, except for the scar...

I can see why they call it that. It is a scar upon the flesh of our Earthmother, a blight upon the world. The scourge are a disease and they leave ruin in their wake. I despise them, and I feel such sadness for the blighted lands. The ghostlands, eversong, the plaguelands... What I wouldn't give for a druid's gift of healing? I would give everything I could to heal the wounds the scourge have inflicted upon our earth. I used to wish that I had been blessed so by the Earthmother, but not anymore. She knows best and she has a plan for us all. She has chosen me to have the gifts I bear, and if that gift is the ability to take off my enemy's head, well... I won't gripe.

But I would give anything to heal that wound. I mourn for the loss, the devastation. I cannot speak to animals or feel the trees. I cannot sing to the wind or the spirits, but I can feel their pain down to my very bones. What's worse than that is knowing that I cannot fix it. I feel impotent, incompetent in the face of such pestilence. But I will do whatever I can.

My job was to gather supplies in the elven city. Specifically foodstuffs and water. I'll admit I got a little distracted. I couldn't help it! Silvermoon is a feast for the senses! Everywhere I looked there was colour, shining jewels, gleaming gold. There are magical brooms that sweep away dirt and even the pot plants float with magic! The city smells sweet, with just a touch of ozone. I wished I could have explored for hours, but I had job to do. I did slip for a moment or two... The Chieftain caught me bouncing on a bed in the inn. I think it was filled with water! I was dreadfully embarrassed but the Chief only laughed.

We saw Adalina there... I wanted to speak with her. I have so many questions... but it wasn't appropriate. I had a mission... The Chief called her Chieftess... I wonder if he meant to? She seemed surprised.

We quickly returned to our encampment at Caer Darrow to see that our kin had cleared the area of debris and had scouted the surrounding area. After a while the Chief thought it would be prudent to explore the abandoned keep on the hill. Lohawq and I joined him, and it's a good thing we did. It turned out that it wasn't abandoned after all, but that a training ground for scourge cultists was under our very hooves! We slaughtered our way through the place. My armour was dripping with gore and sweat after we fought scores of cultists and their scourge minions. We killed a lich in a horrifying alchemy laboratory. I won't detail what experiments we uncovered there, for they were far too disturbing. I think what I saw in those vats may give me nightmares in the days to come.

_We learnt many things. They might be promising leads, or may lead to nothing. We found that the cultists were breeding plagued dragons. That would have been horrific had they succeeded. We culled their hatchling colony, and I can only hope that it was the only one. There were many books in their library, and I was quite thankful that I was unable to read them. The Chief was able to translate a few. We learnt of the origins of the scourge as well as some other things. For instance, apparently Kalimdor means "Land of eternal starlight." I must tell Moonie!_

We interrogated a few deaders. One was a wraith who tried to lie to us about it's involvement. It showed a surprising amount of free will for an undead thing. We destroyed it's corporeal form, but I worry that it will return. We discovered plans of a more disturbing nature. They outlined orders to attack our kin. Apparently the druids angered the cult with their attempt to heal the plagued lands. We have many clues, but we still seem no closer to finding Kuya and Elder Lightfur.

We have relocated the tribe into the ruined buildings and are securing reinforcements from the Argent Dawn. Supplies are on the way and soon we will begin fortifying the outpost. The deaders and the cultists will pay for what they have done. They cannot stand against the might of the Stormtotem and the Argent Dawn!


	45. Chapter 45

_Riteseeker Rainisha was keeping me company while I was on guard duty at Caer Darrow. Most of the tribe has relocated to Feralas for the time being, but the Braves stay in the plaguelands. We haven't given up hope of finding Kuya. Poor Rak..._

The evening looked to be about as dull as the rest. The air across Darrowmere lake is almost unnaturally quiet and still. I'm even growing accustomed to the sickly sweet stink of the plague. At first it seemed to be a night like any other, but then a stranger approached. A bull, who introduced himself as Trujano and seemed somewhat familiar to me approached the two of us as we kept watch. He had a creature with him, it looked somewhat like a wolf, but both Raini and I agreed that the thing felt wrong and wholly unnatural. It sent a shiver down my spine as it growled at us with an almost malign intelligence. The bull gave us apologies and crept into the old cultist's fort. Raini and I were debating whether we should follow him when he emerged shortly after bearing a strange smelling case. He took off quickly after that. Raini tailed him for a bit, but we held off on tracking him until we had the Chieftain's permission. We followed him to Tirisfal when the trail went cold.

We met briefly with Felgar, who cautioned us against the dangers of Tirisfal, but we were already headed back to Caer Darrow. We made good time with little to report of the journey back. What we saw when we arrived however was a different story. There was a great bat, an unnatural beast. It spoke and identified itself as Gunthur, Bringer of Madness for the Cult. Raini warned me that this was like the other beasts that had attacked my kin before it swiftly assailed us. It screeched loudly and I fell into a sort of trance. I could not even scream in horror as the beast turned my own blade towards Raini. Luckily I was able to snap out of its mind control before I could do her harm. It tried the same trick with Raini too and in the end I stuffed my own braids in my ears to block out it's infernal screeching. It was a tough fight, and though it felt very close, by the end both Raini and I were relatively unscathed. It was very difficult. Even with my spear and her skills at transforming into a great lion we were barely a match for it. If it had not been alone, we'd be dead now. It's a harrowing thought.

I try to think positively. Soon this business will be over with. We'll have Kuya back and we can rejoin the tribe in Feralas. The others have been speaking of the upcoming fertility festival. With recent events it had completely slipped my mind. It will be nice to unwind and celebrate after all this.


	46. Chapter 46

_I had been looking forward to the Shadowhoof Fertility Festival with both giddy anticipation, and nervous reluctance. I was excited about meeting with the Shadowhoof tribe, for they tend to keep to themselves a bit, and I was looking forward to having a good time, without a worry for just one night._

I couldn't hack it...

It wasn't just the fact that the Cultists turned up that had me on edge. Or the large crowd with so many peoples, even a Kaldorei and deaders... I had considered the possibility that it would happen, and just hoped by denying it that everything would work out fine. Well it didn't. It was the Festival itself that sent me into a moping depression. It just brought back too many memories...

It was a clear night, perfect for celebration, the last Fertility Festival I visited. The stars twinkled brightly and Mu'sha beamed overhead, she smiled down on the sweaty bodies of the Shu'halo revelling around the Sacred Fire. I could barely contain my excitement. The sights! The smells! It was a feast for the senses.

Father was still in his hut, as usual. Even for a night of celebration he would not rouse. It didn't bother me then, anymore than rain bothers me because it is wet. Such is the way of things. Kwahu was off enjoying the festivities in his own way, so I found my way to my sister's hut. Grandmother was in there with her. She was fixing the fertility beads and feathers to Fala's mane. She looked... I cannot even describe how beautiful she looked. Like an avatar of our Earthmother, or a spirit of grace. Fala, being older than me by several years, was undertaking the Rite of Menarche at this time. I sat in jealous awe as grandmother painted Fala's fur with intricate designs she mixed from ground powders. She placed leotie blossoms in her mane and behind her ears and sang the rich notes of the Rite. I'm not sure if I've ever been more jealous in my life...

I barged into the tent, probably quite rudely, but I didn't understand... I begged grandmother to make me pretty like Fala was, but she refused.

"You are too young for the Rite, my yahzi, little one." Her voice was always imbued with her wisdom.

"I am not." I remember crossing my arms and pouting, even though I knew my grandmother was always right.

"Your body says otherwise." She grinned, her eyes twinkling with that familiar touch of mischievousness as she poked my flat chest.

I still hadn't given up. "It's not fair..."

"Do not try to grow old before your time, Tiponi! It's not so great." She winked and laughed at this, but sighed as she saw my stubborn expression. "Enjoy your childhood while it lasts, for you can never get it back once it's gone. Sooner than you think you will bleed your first blood, and then we will put ribbons and flowers in your mane. But until then, enjoy your life without worry."

She reached out to hug me and I embraced her, breathing in her rich scented spices. I miss her more than anything in this world...

Fala joined the festivities shortly after that. I remember the crowd stopping mid-leap in dance step as she emerged. She was presented to the tribe, forevermore as a woman. Even then, as young as I was I could see the change in the bulls eyes. She was no longer a child in the eyes of the Earthmother. Marjak had always had eyes for her, even as a child. I saw him leap over the Sacred Fire to be the first to ask her to dance. My heart fluttered with happiness for my sister.

I spied on them later, when Fala walked to the lake with Marjak and they stole a kiss under the moonlight. Kwahu found me then, and he tattled to father. Not that it mattered, the two are mated now.

I have been avoiding thinking of my family, as much as I can, for I know I did them wrong. I'm not sure I can ever make up for it, and I dare not face them. I tell myself that in time I will return. I hope for father's sake...

Bah...


	47. Chapter 47

_Pherala is dead, but even in death she harries us. Her acquaintances make life difficult... Besti's tent was burned and Rakhalen has... betrayed us. The Chief held a ceremony to honour her, though I have no idea why he would want to after everything she did to destroy us. I hope that there is no room in the Earthmother's arms for traitors such as her, and that she wanders aimlessly for eternity. Without a body, I do not trust that even now we'll be left in peace._

With Rak... gone, Lohawq has been promoted to Head Brave. I am very happy for him, but also concerned. He named Padania as his second, but she is heavily with calf, and he told me that I would be replacing her soon. I told him my protests, that I am not ready for such a responsibility, but he would not hear them. He says that I will be ready, in time. He doesn't understand.

Perhaps I've done too good a job at lying.

The scared little Shu'halo that would not raise her sword for fear of harming her friends is not dead, not buried. I walk around in this armour with this spear, parading the strength of our tribe to all who care to notice. But I am nothing but a facade. I'm no Brave. Surely he could see that? I don't have what it takes.

Every time I've had to make a swift decision I've hesistated, and that hesitation has lost me the moment. It's happened so many times I know it's not a coincidence. When Trujano crept into Caer Darrow, it should have been I that made the call. But I didn't, I fussed and fretted and even turned to Raini for advice. A Brave, turning to a Riteseeker because she didn't know what to do! By the time we considered following him it was too late.

I can't be Lohawq's second. I can't make decisions! Every choice I've ever made was the wrong one...


	48. Chapter 48

_Today started like any ordinary day. I was out for a stroll around the bluffs when I encountered Pokawah and Anocken, engaged in what Kwahu used to call a "deep and meaningful", meaning some pretty serious girl talk. I guessed the subject matter with little difficulty. I've been pretty good as guessing in the past, as I'm sure Daethon can attest, but Poka makes it obvious. Every time Kunawen comes near or is even mentioned she's reduced to a garbled mess. She has a crush on him, bad. Such was the intensity of their conversation that I'm not sure they were aware of my presence. Shortly after I arrived, Crowstorm's new apprentice Jaalak joined us. Now I've never been particularly close to Poka or Ano, but it was my duty as a bessie to ensure the sacred privacy of the deep and meaningful. So I lured Jaalak away with questions regarding his tea._

I'm a pretty poor liar, he saw through it instantly. But I explained to him that it was bessie's business and he seemed satisfied enough with that. We got to talking as he brewed more tea. He's an interesting character. Ever the submissive supplicant toward Crow and the elders and he seems convinced that disaster is upon us at every turn. It would be laughable if I hadn't heard that same from so many other sources. Moonie says darkness is coming, the troll's warned that the elements are restless. Everywhere I hear hints of worry. Maybe something is coming.

I'm not sure if I trust his visions, firstly there was the mess in the Needles, which I will speak of shortly, but he also says he can see a great bear spirit about me. I assured him that coyote is my spirit guide, and he told me that the bear is the manifestation of my own spirit... He's either very blessed or very crazy. I'm not sure which yet.

Well we got to talking and he mentioned that he needed to go to the Thousand Needles to meditate on a vision. Some seer stuff, I don't know what it means. He wanted Elder Crow to join him, but said "I'd do." Great. Well I offered to help him. He said he needed a guardian and I saw it as an opportunity to start living up to my title. Prove that I'm worthy of being a Brave. What a failure...

We rode our kodos out to the Needles and secured our mounts at Freewind Post. It was there that we found Lyra. Roak wasn't with her, he was probably with Lohawq. She was either spying on me, or Jaalak, and we asked her to help us. It wasn't until we reached the Post the Jaalak informed me that it was quite a dangerous task he was attempting. Probably should have called for backup right then, but he seemed assured that it would be ok, and I wanted to prove I could do it. I picked up some extra supplies and we headed out into the Needles.

I took up the rearguard of our unusual party and kept a vigilant watch as we made our way westward. I was concerned not only because of the large numbers of centaur that call the Needles home, but also the pools that Jaalak was searching for lay directly beneath a Grimtotem encampment.

All seemed well enough when we arrived at the pools. Jaalak banished away the water elements that were drawn to our presence, and then while Lyra and I kept watch from the shore, he walked out on top of the water and planted his totems. He entered some sort of trance almost immediately. He spoke in the language of the seers and light crackled from his eyes. I was worried but I did not know how to aid him. Finally he seemed spent and he collapsed into the water. I didn't even think, I dove right in to get him. Big mistake. I was wearing full plate armour and sank like a stone. I was simply lucky that the water was not particularly deep. I was able to grab Jaalak and haul him up, treading on the floor of the pool. It was incredibly difficult but it didn't seem so hard at the time, with the adrenaline pumping through my blood. I heaved him up onto dry land, luckily for us he was still breathing. He was freezing cold and shivering, so I grabbed a spare blanket from my supplies sack and Lyra and I worked to warm him up. I was still dripping wet but again, the adrenaline stopped me from even feeling it.

_Suddenly he came to and started screaming and babbling incoherently. I wasn't able to get him to make sense, he kept screaming that we had to get off the ground, NOW. I concluded that he'd foreseen a disaster in his vision and that the ground was due to erupt into lava or some other horror. He truly seemed terrified. He wouldn't stop screaming for us to run, so I complied. I hefted him over my shoulder and half-ran, half-loped. I cannot tell you difficult that was. The adrenaline was wearing off now and I was starting to feel the pain in my muscles. I'm little, even for a bessie, so carrying Jaalak who must nearly be twice my weight, and running, in full plate armour, argh! I cannot describe the effort it took. I don't think the bull even realises the pain I went through for him... He kept screaming that we had to get to higher ground. I told him that the path leading to the spires was a Grimtotem encampment but he didn't seem to care. He seemed assured that our deaths would be for certain unless we got to higher ground immediately. He broke off from my shoulder and took off across the rope bridge. Lyra and I ran after him. Two Grimtotem sentries moved in intercept us and we swiftly dispatched them. I was of course, concerned by this point that more would be coming._

At the top of the spire Jaalak stopped. He gibbered a bit more and vomited profusely, but finally he seemed to regain he senses. He didn't even know where we were and kept talking about an ocean. I managed to convince him to leave the Grimtotem spire. I was very concerned that reinforcements were on their way to slaughter us for our trespass, but Jaalak still seemed terrified of touching the ground. Finally I managed to convince him. He kept muttering, "It hasn't happened yet..."

We raced back to the post, and Jaalak wouldn't even tell me what he saw. He simply ordered me to call for the Chieftain and took off back to the Bluffs. He's not even a Riteseeker, and I'm supposedly a Brave, but I did as I was told... I've only proven ever more that I'm unfit for this position.

When Lyra and I arrived back at the Bluffs the Chief was already speaking with Jaalak in Elder Crowstorm's tent. I was furious, but also deeply disappointed in myself. Jaalak told the Chief that he saw the Needles being flooded in his vision. The Chief didn't seem to take it very seriously. I suppose if it happens, it happens. Perhaps it is the Earthmother's will? I should ask the druids... At least the centaurs will be flooded out... I can only hope they are not driven into our lands... We spoke at length with Elder Twilla, Pokawah, Kunawen and Kuyahnee joining us for a time. Lyra brewed excellent tea. She is a better cook than me, even without opposable thumbs.

It seems I am not in trouble, despite my failure. The Chief ordered Jaalak not to go on any more vision quests without an Elder. What he meant was: without me... I failed.


	49. Chapter 49

_I think I should change my name. How does: "Tiponi Ruins-Everything" sound?_

The tribe has relocated to a small farm in the Barrens. It's near a major road to the Crossroads and seems to get a lot of passersby. I had just returned from hunting Planstriders when I met Kuna and Raini talking with an elf. The Sin'dorei seemed dreadfully confused and both Raini and Kuna seemed to delight in confusing her more so. The elf, who introduced herself as Feladorina, was seeking some Illustrious Rahahaha who apparently mates with sheep. She said she wanted to become a Tauren. At first I took her to mean that she sought acceptance as part of the Shu'halo society, but no. She wanted to be transformed into a Tauren so as to better learn of our ways. I tried to assure her that there were easier ways to learn a culture but she would not be swayed.

She also believed that both Kuna and Raini were actually cats. Talking cats with horns, and it wasn't until they revealed themselves that she believed me... She gave them a substance, a herb called catnip which supposed sends their pet felines in Silvermoon into an affectionate frenzy. I didn't think it would work on druids, but apparently there is enough "cat" in them to do to. Raini and Kuna were behaving poorly in front of an outsider and I tried to chide them for it, but they seemed to be blissfully overcome by the herb. I thought Lyra might like to try some...

We were joined by another, a bull who travelled far collecting exotic animals, and then a troll who was somewhat familiar to me. Zandzoa Is Jang'thaze's son. He approached the Elder's tent a few suns ago to speak with the Chieftain. He is the new leader of the War Tribe and sought to establish diplomatic relations with the Stormtotem, but the Chief dismissed him outright based on his young age... I had only just started conversing with the young troll when Felgar arrived. As I mentioned, the road sees many travellers. Zandzoa mentioned that he had seen Felgar with Dyrim the other night, and offhandedly I remarked that she was his mate. Felgar over-reacted at that. He got angry and verbally reprimanded me for giving out his private information. I didn't realise their relationship was a secret... Is Felgar ashamed, or merely hiding something? He left shortly after that... I can't make up my mind about him. On the one hand he is my kin, and seems to act out of a, perhaps somewhat misguided sense of honour... on the other hand he seems to be constantly raging and keeping himself separate from the rest of us. Perhaps he wishes to be the Chieftain of his own tribe? I will not jump to conclusions. I did that before, and look where it ended me... No. I shall not make my mind up about Felgar yet, for next time he does lose my confidence, it will be the end of it.

The Chieftain and Pokawah arrived a little later while I was roasting my plainstrider meat on the cookfires. I think I'm getting better at this whole cooking thing. The meat actually managed to stay together when I passed it around, and it was only mostly blackened. As An'she dipped behind the hills we settled into conversation. Besti left for a bit, as did Raini and Poka, but Roak and Lyra arrived. I remember the gift that the elf had given me for Lyra and decided not to wait to give it to her.

To say I didn't expect such a reaction is a gross understatement. Lyra went nuts! She started nuzzling me and purring at me, which was all well and good, but it affected Roak too! Roak started nuzzling me! I think I might have frozen in shock. And he was purring! A grown bull, purring. Well at first I thought it was rather funny, and the nuzzling was very ticklish. So I laughed it off, but things started to take a turn for the worse. Roak and Lyra wouldn't stop, they were quiet persistent. I think perhaps some of the catnip residue was left on me? At one point I had Roak on top of me as I was crushed to the ground, with Lyra and Roak holding down my arms. I struggled and giggled at their tickling at first, but I couldn't get rid of them. I asked the others for help but the elf only laughed at me. I began to panic, Roak had a glazed look in his eyes, like he wasn't even conscious of his actions! I struggled with all my might, even kicking at Lyra at once stage to get rid of them. The elf's laugher echoed loudly. The troll realised that I was in trouble, he tried to pull me out but ended up getting crushed between myself and Roak. The other bull, Hrukahs fetched a bucket of water to throw at us. It might have washed some of the herb scent away, but it didn't seem to deter either of them. Roak was crushing me and I was unable to break free. I ended up screaming, and then Felgar was there.

_I'm not sure when he'd come back, but I know what it must have looked like. Roak was on top of me, Lyra holding me down while I screamed for help... He charged right in and sent Lyra and Roak flying away with his axe blow. My world shuddered to a halt for a moment as my brain struggled to catch up with what had happened. I ran to see Roak and Lyra. They were both pretty badly injured, but not dead. It seems that even in his fury Felgar managed a little restraint, and he struck not with the edge of his axe, but the side. I then realised that Felgar was inches away from killing Zandzoa. I begged him to stop, trying to convince him that it was a misunderstanding. Raini and the Chief had returned at some point, and Besti seemed to be able to calm Felgar..._

What happened next seems a little hazy in my mind. Felgar went to speak with his troll mate, Twilight, while the others tended to Roak and Lyra and I tried to explain what had transpired. Roak was in a worse condition than Lyra and needed Felgar's healing touch to restore his consciousness. I have never been more grateful for anything in my life. For a moment, I thought like I might have caused the deaths of my two best friends. Felgar shouted at the elf, blaming her kind's obsession with addiction for what had happened. He nearly had a confrontation with Hrukahs too, but Raini put a stop to that.

Roak sleeps beside me now, with Lyra curled up against him. He will be well again, given time to properly heal. I cannot express into words how dreadfully sorry I am that this happened. I always seems to ruin everything. The Chief came in to tell me he wasn't mad at me for my actions, but I am. I'm disgusted with myself...

Maybe I should go away... I cannot bear the thought of hurting my friends again.


	50. Chapter 50

An'she shone brightly on the little caravan as it wound its way down the dirt packed road. There was only a single wagon being pulled by an old kodo. Another pair of the great beasts travelled alongside, heavily burdened with supplies. The route was familiar to them, for the family travelled their route yearly, so the kodos plodded along at a contented pace. One of them, the youngest beast of the three startled and roared as something tiny darted between its legs. The eldest kodo grunted, and the beast fell back into line.

"Tiponi! Don't run near the kodos!" a deep voice sounded.

The tiny thing looked up. The top of her horns barely reached the wagon floor and her pretty dress was stained with mud. She had pink ribbons in her plaited mane and gripped a dolly in one hand.

"It wasn't me! Tehya wanted to see!" the little girl retorted, holding up the hand-stitched cloth doll as proof.

"Well," said a softer voice, as a beautiful Shu'halo woman turned around in the wagon, "She needs to be punished for getting you into trouble."

The little girl's eyes widened, "No Mama! She promises not to do it again!"

The older Bessie smiled at the bull beside her, "Well, if she promises to be careful." The woman laughed as her daughter screamed with glee and raced off after the kodo. Her mate, a large bull with reddish fur smiled broadly at her as she whispered, "She takes after your mother..."

Tiponi skipped through the grass, dancing with the dolly and singing a little tune to herself. Something made her stop. She was only a child, barely more than an infant, but she felt something. "Papa?" she started to turn back and as she did something whizzed past her head. "PAPA!" she screamed.

"TIPONI!" The bull roared, he dove off the wagon and raced towards her, scooping her up in one fluid movement as arrows began to rain down upon them. His worried mate snapped at the kodos reins and the beasts roared in confusion and pain. He threw his daughter into the wagon and heaved himself aboard as dozens of centaur appeared from the rocks nearby and started cantering down towards them. The old kodo grunted and gave his all, but the beast was not agile and arrows dotted his hide.

"Run Tuketu, please." The woman pleaded with tears in her eyes. The beast roared and summed the last of his strength. The wood groaned as the wagon picked up speed. It was faster, but not fast enough. Shafts of black rained down upon them, and the old kodo groaned with his failure as his legs gave out beneath him. The beast felt to the dirt in a heap and the wagon crashed into him, toppling onto its side.

The bull wasted no time, he leapt into action, twin axes cleaving into centaur flesh. Tiponi cowered against the wagon, tears streaming down her face, but she made no sound. Horns sounded in the distance, Shu'halo horns. Tiponi poked out her head to see and a huge centaur stood above her. His four legs encircled her like a cage. She cried out in alarm and suddenly the creature was gone, bowled over by a flash of white fur. Tiponi huddled back against the wagon, almost concealed, as her mother faced the large one wielding nothing but a dagger.

"Mama!" Tiponi cried out as the beast struck, and time seemed to slow to a crawl and then stop. The scene froze, and she could see it all unfolding again. The great red bull, surrounded by centaur, the Braves of the village racing to the rescue with horns blowing, the still lumps of the kodos, the Shu'halo woman, falling to her knees. And that little girl, eyes wide, a blood-stained dolly dropping from her hands...

Tiponi woke up gasping for breath. A moment of panic filled her, when she could not recall where she was, but her breathing began to slow almost at once. She was surrounded by kin, by her new family in a small farm in the barrens. Below her hammock, Roak slept soundly on a large pile of soft furs, with Lyra curled up against his side. Tiponi eased herself out of the hammock and as softly as she could, walked outside.

The air was cool and fresh, the stars shone brightly though Mu'sha currently hid from her view. Tiponi took a deep breath and tried to calm the shakes that the familiar dream always brought. She was completely unaware that she had been joined by another, as the cat padded silently up to her and nuzzled against her leg.

Tiponi jumped a little in shock, then sighed. "I'm sorry Lyra, did I wake you?"

The beautiful red lynx merely shrugged.

"I had a bad dream."

Lyra nodded and sat beside Tiponi, leaning her head on her shoulder. They sat silently until An'she began to rise over the barren plains.


	51. Chapter 51

_Just when I thought life was beginning to go back to normal, the cultists return to plague us. Will they never leave us in peace?_

When I roused from my tent today most of the tribe were already gathered at the tiny farm in the Barrens. Lohawq decided he wanted to see me fight Raini and, despite my protests, my kin ended up surrounding us inside a small fenced enclosure. It started as I expected it to. I'm never the one to make the first move. I prefer to watch my opponent and wait for them to give me an opportunity. Raini is a little taller than me in her natural form, but as a cat she's roughly my weight, and she's fast. I know I'm not big and strong, I use my speed and dexterity to win battles, but Raini and I were so evenly matched I had to resort to something else. She's fast and light, probably stronger than me also. The only advantage I had on her was my armour. I had full plate and she only had fur. I ended up letting my armour take the beating. She thrashed and clawed at me but she couldn't get through. Lohawq said he wanted to see her fight someone with a spear, but I think maybe we should focus more on how to get around my armour. If she'd done that, I wouldn't have lasted a second.

Raini jumped right over my head a couple of times. I've fought Daethon in his forms before, but I'd never seen a druid do that. I managed to pin her against the fence but she also had my weapon pinned. Lohawq called it a draw.

It was then that the Chief, Lohawq and Felgar went to the aid of some of our elven allies in Ashenvale. I asked if they needed help, but they told me to stay. Did they think I was spent from my bout with Raini? I doubt it. I think they're finally starting to realise what I liability I am. I could only listen in horror at what I heard over the totem. Ambushed by allies of the Cult. Council of Shadows. Rakhalen, Tasicala, Alastair, allied with the Betrayer... I sat uselessly. When they returned they wouldn't even tell us what happened. I only managed to capture snippets.

I hosted the Story Circle in Mulgore. It was nice to be home. Funny, since I wanted to much to get away... I told the story of Aditsan and the dream. The nightmare of the story fitted my mood. After the circle ended two orcs approached me. I recognised them as from the tribe of the Jagged Fang. They sought information regarding the cultist attack. I can understand the Chief withholding information from me. I am a Brave, in name, but he still sees me as only a child... Just like Zandzoa. But to withhold information from our trusted allies, when they could possibly be in danger? It's... it's unbelievable. I told the orcs everything I knew, which wasn't much at all I fear, but they were grateful for it. Felgar would be gnashing his teeth at the thought of me giving information away. Is there none amongst us who would strengthen our ties to our allies? Is our trust so withered that we cut ourselves off? It's true we face the Cult. But we needn't face them alone. The cult has allies and so do we.

Chamassou says I would make a great diplomat. What a laugh.


	52. Chapter 52

_It started to occur to me as I sat freezing in Winterspring, that I have never felt so alone until I joined this tribe. I know I have questioned my decision in the past, and quickly scolded myself for such thoughts, but the doubt keeps returning. The tribe had moved to the snowy cavern for a respite, and had quickly separated into couples. I suppose the warmth from another's body is even more tempting in the freezing cold. Even my best friend Roak was joined to Lohawq at the hip. Well, I can't really begrudge him that, they were only just joined in ritual before the Earthmother. But still it hurt me deeply, that for days I saw not a soul, only the endless white._

Coyote has abandoned me I think. I called out to him. I cried out for his aid. If only for his company, but there was no sign he ever existed. I went to visit Moonie in the frozen mountains of Stormpeak. She has a remarkable observatory in Taunka village, and she had invited me to visit in a friendly letter. But when I arrived I banged on the door for what felt like hours to no reply. I had to trudge back down the slope into the Taunka village, feeling so rejected. I hope nothing bad has happened to my friend, she has been awfully worried of late...

Bah. I hate the cold.

Kuna seems lonely too. I find it a little strange that I like him more now, like this. I can actually carry out a conversation with him without feeling like I'm talking to a child who will pull at my tail any second. But I'm sad that he's hurting, but I can feel his pain. He seeks a... I don't know the word for it. A companion I think he called it. A mate that is not a mate. No strings attached or some such. I can't be that for him. I want to see my friend happy again, but how can I help when I'm in misery myself?

I feel like I'm surrounded by my tribe, and completely alone. What does that mean? And where is Coyote? Maybe I only imagined him... maybe I just wanted to belong...

I miss my family so much. I miss my father, and my sister, and even Kwahu. I wish grandmother were still alive. She would make me feel instantly better. Maybe I should talk to Crowstorm? She's the new Chieftain now, another thing I cannot understand... but she's always been so kind to me. She's probably too busy with Chieftain stuff now anyway...

I was so happy when Lohawq invited me to become a Brave. Looking back on it now I'm sure I just wanted to have my own special place in the tribe. I'm certain more than ever that this isn't right for me. I'm not meant to be a Brave... I just need an answer... Earthmother please...


	53. Chapter 53

The silence of the night was only broken by the faintest chirping of insects. A small breeze blew in from the north, carrying with it the seeds of flowers and the hint of a promise. Tiponi lay in her hammock in the little hut in the Barrens, snoring softly. The night was warm and Mu'sha hid behind the trees as the breeze trickled into the room. Tiponi snorted and woke up suddenly as a feather landed on her nose.

"Huh, wha-?" she mumbled sleepily as she rubbed her bleary eyes.

She was about to settle back down into sleep when movement of something slipping out of the hut drew her eye. It was low, slinking close to the ground.

"Lyra? Is that you?" Tiponi crept out of the hammock, landing as softly on the floor as it was possible for a Tauren. She began to creep towards the door. Hesitating, she turned back and quickly picked up her spear from beside her hammock, as well as an old hide buckler. She left her plate armour in a pile on the floor as she crept out silently into the night.

The young Brave squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the shape of the Lynx. She saw nothing but the remains of the fire from the previous night.

"I must have dreamt it..." She started to turn around to go back to bed, when she froze in her tracks. Sitting before her, regarding her intelligently, was a sleek golden Coyote.

Tiponi gasped and joyfully exclaimed, "You've come back! Oh Coyote you came back to me, I thought..."

Coyote leapt up as she reached for him and looked over his shoulder to grin at her as he began trotting away.

"Wait! Come back! I need to talk to you." Tiponi scampered after the spirit.

Coyote looked back over her shoulder to ensure she was following, then he picked up speed. He bounded away across the sand, leaping over rocks as the young Tauren warrior trailed behind him. She skidded and slipped and stumbled, but she managed to keep the flash of golden fur in her sights even as they entered the lush oasis.

"Why are you running from me!?" Tiponi cried out with tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

The Tauren stopped and slowly turned around. The land was brimming with life around the pools of water, and Tiponi struggled to see the spirit through the dense foliage. Finally she saw the Coyote. He was sitting up high on a rocky ledge above her, regarding her quizzically. Tiponi gritted her teeth and secured her weapon to her back as she began to climb up the rock towards the Coyote. The spirit seemed to smile at this. His approval encouraged her, and though her hooves found little purchase on the stone, she managed to slowly creep towards the grinning figure.

Finally when she reached the ledge before him, she stood panting. "Now, will you just-"

Tiponi was interrupted as the rock gave way beneath her feet. She tumbled down into the crevice, and as she roughly hit the bottom, darkness overcame her...

Tiponi became aware of the smell at first. She could smell blood, and the sickly scent of death, and smoke. She coughed and squinted in the faint light. Her head was still ringing from the fall and she was disorientated. She seemed to be in some sort of cavern underneath the oasis. Again the smell nearly overcame her and she doubled over coughing. She then spied a plant, she recognised it as mageroyal and reached out for the herb, hoping to breathe in its soft perfume to clear her lungs.

As she reached for the plant she suddenly felt as though she was being watched. She turned around and saw two glowing yellow eyes watching her intently. The face was rotten away, exposing teeth and the muscles of the jaw. The Forsaken wore an old elaborate style of clothing, complete with a grand cloak, and a pair of bloody daggers in his hands.

"Well," he rasped amusedly, "Hello, my lady."

Tiponi screamed.


	54. Chapter 54

**Part Two**

**Shallow Grave**

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

To say there was no movement in the tomb was untrue. There was the shuddering torchlight, the rank smell, and the skittering carrion feeders. Most of the corpses were now too old and dry for maggots, and the nooks and crannies of the skulls and bones crawled with spiders and centipedes.

One particular spider, in a moment of reckless ambition, poked its way across one of the newer piles of twisted arms and legs, a few still with fingernails and skin intact. It moved very deliberately at first, as if with some definite purpose in mind, before suddenly coming to a stop on the remains of an open human hand.

It stopped for a moment, then startled away as if aware of a sudden movement. The dead hand, grey with rot and purple with gangrene, closed upon it in one breathless moment. A rat, sitting nearby and gnawing at a bit of dry old bone, looked casually towards the horrific thing that rose from the rocky ground. He had seen it before and would again, and there would be plenty for him to eat anyway, as long as the war raged on. Still though, that one had looked tasty.

It swayed, unsteadily, and the rat wondered if it would be able to walk up the stairs. Some of them didn't make it, after all. He tossed the bone to the side and followed. It was rather comical to see it continually raise one hand to its face, as if to brush away the darkness. The other hand was twisted against its chest in a strange way, and the swaying limp did not seem to be improving. When it reached the mouldy stairs, it collapsed, face down, legs folded beneath it.

The rat stepped up to it, fearlessly expecting to feast well, and sniffed at an ankle. A female, he concluded, and judging by the smell of rent flesh and dried blood she had not succumbed to plague. Such luck that she would not be leaving the tomb after all! He licked the lean bit by the tendon and was impressed to find some decent meat left. He bore his teeth and took a large, savoury bite.

A low, deep sound, like a growl, froze the rat in place. The creature slowly lifted its head and turn to face him. The eyes had long since rotted away, and two fiercely glowing orbs stood in their place. Their light did not shudder or flicker but stared through the rank darkness of the tomb, unblinking, unfeeling...undead.

This one was not for him. In his little rodent mind he offered her a long and illustrious career, for he could see the corpses that would fall in her wake. In a flash he had run back into the recesses of bones, content to wait until her victims arrived.

The moon was still bright in the early morning, brighter than the sun ever got in Tirisfal Glades. Some of the corpses had been sitting for too long. I was not called the Shallow Grave because it was small; it was because it was always full. Not enough of them were walking out on their own, but they fell at the same rate every day.

Undertaker Mordo had been trying to clean up a bit and still had a good fire going. He knew no fatigue or frustration, so he felt no relief or joy when he saw one corpse stagger through the door into the pale light. The orbs in her head glowed with a familiar, ethereal light, reflected in her torn hair and her cracked lips.

"Greetings," he said, and she turned and looked at him. Her right arm was twisted and pressed against her chest, and she did not resist as Arren reached forward a pried it away. He saw then that her body from the chest down was crusted with blood, and in her hand she clutched a book, also stained with dirt and gore. As soon as he touched it, the rotting book fell apart. The pages scattered, many ending up in the fire. One, however, fell between Arren's fingers, and he read one of the few legible words he could see;

"Hyzanthlay."

And she raised her head, as if in response.


	55. Chapter 55

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

The little demon stared at her with its buggy, lidless eyes. It resembled a frog, but with long, springy legs and a tail. It bounced sideways from foot to foot when it was excited.

The demon's name was Ziltip, but she never had to use its name. As Maximillion had instructed, it was bound to her by the demonic summoning spell and had no choice but to cater to her every whim. Since this mostly consisted of hurling small firebolts and cackling, this vocation pleased it. She was unsure of her own. Maximillion and Mordo had used the word "warlock" and although it sounded familiar, the word meant little to her.

Hyzanthlay had risen from the tomb, and the moon had moved below the horizon, and now the sun limped across the perpetually hazy sky. She had spent those hours wandering the ruins of Deathknell with little more purpose then the mindless zombies that made up the current population. The plague had swept through the town quickly, and the residents succumbed to the will of the Lich King before his minions ever even came near the place. She had thinned their numbers using a mix of fire and bolts of shadow while scavenging for supplies, and Maximillion had rewarded her with a demon. The task he had just asked of her had more gravity to it. He had raised one of his rotting hands and pointed north.

The mossy hill sloped downward. Hyzanthlay's joints bent more freely now, so much that her movements were rather grotesque. Some bones were badly damaged and the marrow showed through. She had discarded the ragged dress and now wore a flax vest. The gaping wound over her heart was now completely hidden. The empty orbs of her eyes glowed gently as she crouched closer to the ground. There was movement in the distance.

One of the camp sentries drew nearer. A young woman, with a mail shirt, brandishing a sword. It seemed like she was alone. Hyzanthlay prepared to attack. She planned to draw the enemy into the dark mists, away from the camp.

Her first few spells were simple. Maxmillion was impressed with how quickly she learned to cast a Shadowbolt. Too quickly, as if she already knew something about it.

The warlock spell hit the sentry squarely, and wounded her, but she did not falter. Her counter-attack was fierce, no match for the novice warlock's indifference. Hyzanthlay fell to the ground, her small dagger knocked from her hands. The sentry began to rain down cool but persistent blows on the prone figure. Ziltip enthusiastically threw a firebolt that missed her and exploded a few feet away, attracting the attention of another sentry closer to the camp. He didn't even have time to protest before the little demon had been returned to the nether, and the Scarlet Convert and his initiate turned back to the undead creature.

Hyzanthlay had risen from the ground enough to face them, and turning to the first sentry raised an open glove and spoke a horrible word. The sentry screamed as her skin exploded into cracks and lesions. She staggered backward, blood and boils spreading over her stricken face. The second sentry stepped forward and raised his sword. Setting his teeth, he tensed his muscles and prepared to strike.

The undead creature raised her eyes. Her face was gaunt and expressionless. She was already dead, and could feel nothing. But she could hear something...

Was someone screaming? _I thought I heard a scream..._ but it was a short burst of sound that exploded in her ears and left them numb.

The sword glinted in the failing light, and it shone for a moment on the tabard the initiate was wearing, the same tabard that all those bound to the Scarlet Crusade wear. A red flame burned against the pure white background. Hyzanthlay saw the flame, and the emptiness in her chest was suddenly filled with a great and terrible rage. She awoke to a fiendish and burning desire to hunt and kill all that belonged to the Scarlet Crusade.

The sword fell, and missed. The awkward creature had surprised him with a sudden movement. It had lunged closer, slipped the small dagger from his belt, and driven it into his lower back. He howled with pain and leapt back, almost tripping over the stricken sentry. She had struggled to her feet and drawn her sword. The boils on her face now nearly rendered her blind.

There was no hesitation or doubt in Hyzanthlay's movements now. She struck with all her might at the red flame. The dagger was well tended, and struck deep. It slipped easily through the mail jerkin and shirt and rended the flesh beneath. Blood gushed forward from the opening as the force of Hyzanthlay's skeletal arm jammed it in past the hilt, the growl in her throat rising to a crescendo. Blood poured from the Initiate's nose and mouth as his ribs and lungs were torn apart.

The sentry staggered, perhaps hoping to get away. Up to her wrist in gore, Hyzanthlay reached forward and grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to stand directly behind her hapless companion. His back burst as the blade drove through his body and into hers. For a moment, she and the undead creature stared at each other. Such a look of surprise on her mangled face! Then threads of blood dripped from the corners of her mouth and down her chin.

Hyzanthlay stepped back and let both bodies fall to the ground in a steaming, tangled heap. The smell of fresh gore drove her into a new frenzy. She hungrily slurped at the sinew and flesh that dripped from the handle of her knife. Hyzanthlay was shameless as she knelt before the prone bodies and gorged, now that she knew her hunger and how it could be satisfied. The living blood and flesh restored her, and she remembered the executor's words.

Bring me proof, Arren had said, if you return.

The moon was bright and full when Hyzanthlay returned to the camp, reeking of blood. Her teeth and mouth were stained with it, and it had collected in puddles on the nape of her neck. She threw the armbands at Deathguard Arren's feet, and waited expectantly for her next order.

He said nothing at first, but laughed heartily before speaking.

"Now, you are a warlock, Hyzanthlay."

Arren looked at the documents with interest. Apparently, Hyzanthlay had killed someone of repute during her rampage through the Scarlet Crusade campground. She was fitted with some less bloody but equally modest gear and told to follow the road to Brill. There she was to deliver her correspondence to Executor Zygrand and await further instruction. She was also informed that the war effort was still ongoing and she was expected to contribute even if she was not skilled enough to fight. Before she had left, Deathguard Arren had decided to demonstrate his dry wit and reward her with a weapon she could not use. It was a handsome enough staff, simple and balanced, but awkward and useless in her untrained hand.

What was she, a mage? Her dagger would suffice for now, she insisted.

Arren had laughed and told her to seek out a master of rustic weapons. "We have some unlikely bedfellows, who have become powerful warriors using such simple things."

Food and supplies were always needed. She was to lend a hand when ordered. Her skills as a warlock would not be enough; she was to learn a trade. Immediately.

Deathknell had become small, a place where spiders and mice skittered nervously under Hyzanthlay's heavy and deliberate step. A training area for the most vulnerable, the path leading from Deathknell was protected by an embankment and a high wall. A few guards and messengers came and went but the place was otherwise quiet. At times, she was distracted by a common plant that would strike her as familiar. She picked some Silverweed leaves and buds, a common tea and smoking herb. She mused that she might have some use for such things even in death, and pocketed it. Hyzanthlay thought that she saw a shrivelled figure huddled in the leafy shadows as she turned to leave Deathknell behind, but when she cast her full, bright orbs towards it she saw nothing. A rogue, she thought. She had already seen a few. They seemed to be common among the Forsaken.

The road forked to the right and left. A sign directed her to Brill on the right, but the promise of a meagre reward compelled her to head left, where a small holdout of human farmers was in need of ravaging. She had also heard the word "Apothecary" and remembered Arren's advice regarding a profession. The farm was near a ruined tower that sheltered a few more Scarlet stragglers. Hyzanthlay was able to slay a few before turning back towards Brill with supplies from the farm.

It had been too easy, she thought. Too many of her victims had appeared disoriented or distracted. Ziltip had been agitated ever since she had summoned him again. He kept jumping on her shoulder, or clinging to her forearm, glancing furtively about, complaining incessantly.

"I'm not even supposed to be here today," he simpered. Hyzanthlay ignored him.


	56. Chapter 56

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

The zombies here were aggressive, and their long claws and their sharp teeth were riddled with disease. Hyzanthlay kept to the road. Mangy dogs and bats also snuffled about in the dark woods. She expected that anything dangerous would sneak up on her, so was not alarmed when some noise drew her away from the road.

The abomination stood well above her, the folds of its naked skin exposing rotting organs and tainted, greenish brown flesh. A grotesque motley mix of stitches and misshapen limbs, this one was fighting off a bat and a feral dog. After Hyzanthlay helped him, he informed her that he was searching for a type of weed. What does an abomination want with such a thing? Apparently there were a few skilled Apothecaries in Brill, and the creature seemed grateful when she offered to take up his errand. With a wave of his hand and a billow of putrid stench he lumbered back to the woods to continue his sentry duties. Hyzanthlay continued, unmoved by his smell or appearance.

Strellabelle was the first warlock that Hyzanthlay had met. Upon reaching Brill, and confirming her chosen profession as a herbalist, Zygrand had pointed one of his bony figures towards the inn and told her not to go alone. Slightly more skilled, already accompanied by a looming Voidwalker minion, Strellabelle had been sitting sadly next to a rotting piece of bread when Hyzanthlay had appeared. The two had barely spoken before stepping out into the night.

"There's a rogue following you."

Strellabelle first mentioned the pressing need for bat pelts and thread before mentioning their unwelcome companion.

"Since Deathknell," Hyzanthlay acknowledged, insulted that Strellabelle had taken it for granted that she didn't know.

Despite the stoicism and hostility, the pair were likely candidates to clear the spiders, bats and other vermin from southeastern Tirisfal Glades. The monastery would have to be saved for later. They resolved to return, with friends.

Hyzanthlay stood greedily by the Apothecary as he brewed his latest potion, and she fed it to the captured prisoner with equal gusto. A dwarf and human had been kept in the cellar of the Gallow's End Tavern. Hyzanthlay was more interested in testing out her concoction on the dwarf. She wanted to see if they died like humans, as she could see little difference between them other than size. Her native curses certainly sounded impressive. She was fierce and strong, but terrified, and no match for two creatures that know neither pain nor fear. They did not hesitate to hold her down and force the putrid liquid down her throat and paid no heed to her cries of agony. They watched with detached fascination as her skin curled and yellowed like old paper before bursting into puss-lined boils and reducing her to a rotting pile of screaming mush before finally succumbing.

Hyzanthlay examined the hissing remains with appreciation. They were too putrid even for the most famished undead appetite.

"I want to be an Alchemist," Hyzanthlay announced to Strellabelle as they waited for the zeppelin. Her voice had as much enthusiasm as the breathless undead could muster.

"I thought you might. And what do you think happened to our skulking little friend?"

Hyz bowed her head and didn't answer. There had been no sign of the rogue since their departure from Brill. Perhaps they would appear in Kalimdor, the land of their most powerful allies, the Orcs.


	57. Chapter 57

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

The bright, harsh sun of Durotar distracted Hyzanthlay. Strellabelle had been here before, and strolled casually from the zeppelin landing without looking back. They had an unspoken agreement to meet in Orgrimmar later. After spending a few days together on the small, noisy zeppelin, Hyzanthlay was glad to be on her own for some time.

"I suspect Durotar won't be to your liking, but no matter," Strellabelle had said when the sandy, rocky coast started to take shape. "You will see the Forsaken in these lands, and you are compelled to lend them aid as you can. Do not forget to endear yourself to our noble hosts."

Hyzanthlay took an extra moment to observe the crusty, red earth and scorched rocks that made up the landscape. She walked past the two orc grunts that stood before the zeppelin tower, and when she turned to take a second look, they stood unmoved.

They were tall and heavyset creatures, unashamed of ugliness or cruelty. Their weapons and armour were cut in a way that was designed to look crude, but the effect was deceptive. It would take the blink of an eye for an orc warrior to turn into a sharp steel projectile lined with blades and teeth. Big fangs, big weapons, big hate. There was a darkness in their eyes that the warlock could not pin down. It was not the abyss in the shining orbs of her brethren, nor the bloodlust of a troll. It was a shadow Hyzanthlay did not understand, but the smell and aura were familiar. In spite of this, she was pleased with her allies so far, and turned towards the city gates. She had only gone a few steps when a voice spoke.

"Tis the demon's blood, madam, that which vexes the orcs."

Her secret admirer had returned, and she felt rather stupid for becoming distracted.

"You follow me all the way from Brill, hiding in underbrush and shadows, only to reveal yourself in the full light of day. You foolish rogue, what do you want from me? Speak plainly, then leave me in peace."

The rogue appeared at her side, this time in fill view. His wizened, hunched frame and rotted face crouched before her in the dust. She concluded that this pathetic creature must have succumbed to plague before rising to join the Forsaken. A few scraps of bleached hair and flaked skin crowned his head, which he only held up with some difficulty as he bowed before her. Gaps of rent flesh lined his cheekbones, giving his wide grin a comical, grotesque look.

"Allow me to introduce myself. EucaIypto is my name, and I must correct thee, madam, 'twas was all the way from Deathknell.

The orcs have drunk the blood of the demon Mannoroth, and it seems to still burn inside, even though the curse has been lifted and the demon long slain. As thou art also a student of the dark arts it also vexes thee. I never saw an orc in life. Were you also as fortunate, my Lady?"

Hyzanthlay stopped walking. She searched her memories, staring intently ahead as if she expected them to walk towards her out of the thin, hot air. A red flame. A book. A rat. And nothing more.

"Perhaps I was," Hyzanthlay replied. "I only know that I am Forsaken, and remember little else. I am called Hyzanthlay, and yes, I speak to demons. If there is nothing else then, I will bid you..."

"Allow me," the rogue interjected, "I have been here for some time and it would be my pleasure to escort thee in Orgrimmar. A lady of thy stature should not be..."

"I am no longer a lady any more then you are a gentlemen," Hyzanthlay sneered, "If you're a rogue, then go steal a new shirt! You may have died a gentlemen, and they may have buried you in silks, but the only Lady you will ever serve again is Sylvanas."

By now they were standing before the gates of the city, and Hyzanthlay realized that the huge cloud of dust before them was not the wind but the movement of fierce sparring. The flat, dried rocks and thick sand outside the gates of the orc city made a perfect venue for practice battles.

She had already seen a few trolls in Undercity. Their lips were permanently stained with the blood of their cannibalized victims, murdered during rituals to their gods. The most ancient culture of Azeroth, and the keepers of many of its darker secrets, the Horde saw the Darkspear tribe as a valuable asset.

Tirisfal Glades did not have many Tauren, and when one of the great creatures stood up and lumbered into the sparring area he even made the orcs look diminutive. His step made the ground vibrate. It was apparent that he was a druid when he took on his bear form. He roared, the air shook. If Hyzanthlay had breath, she would have caught it.

"Stay, and watch," Eucalypto smiled at Hyzanthlay as he spoke. "This is my guildmaster, Rik; a very powerful druid. He usually finishes off his opponents rather quickly."

Hyzanthlay thought of druids as healers, and was interested to see one that was a fierce warrior in his own right. An orc was his opponent, and he wore similar armour as those by the zeppelin tower. Hyzanthlay watched with interest as his armour bent and turned perfectly with his movements. He was wielding an impressive jagged sword in each hand and threw himself fearlessly at the Tauren druid. The power of the demon was no longer in them, but when he moved Hyzanthlay felt its echo, that same jarring vibration as when she summoned her demons or cast fel fire.

She was surprised to see that the orc weapons did little to the thick Tauren hide. So it was true; the skin of a Druid could be as solid as plate. Hyzanthlay resolved to remember this if she ever met a night elf druid. Suddenly bored with the spectacle, she turned and walked towards the city gate with not a word to Eucalypto. It took a moment for him to notice and he loped after her.

"The battles have just begun, my Lady...dost thou not..."

"I have no use for a duels; I only desire to kill Scarlet Crusaders for the glory of the Horde and the Dark Lady. Good day."

Hyzanthlay moved towards the shade of the massive corridor that made up the front door. Eucalypto followed.

"Ah, so it's true! Thou art the warlock that decimated the Scarlet Crusade in Tirisfal..."

"And thou art the rogue who secretly helped me," she viciously mimicked his formal speech. "Why do you feign ignorance?"

With a woosh the rogue disappeared again. For a moment Hyzanthlay mistakenly thought he had returned to the duels, but then she heard his voice. The loud cheers from the sparring match outside were still quite audible, but muffled in the tall stone corridor.

"Yes, many of those early Crusaders also served me as pickpocket practice. But that first night, I had no plan to aid thee. That was a nice knife that boy had...and your cape would have looked quite fine over my humble burial clothes."

Hyzanthlay turned and Eucalypto was standing before her, again in plain sight. He spoke slowly, staring at her intently, crouched close to the ground.

"Such...furious, vicious, unrelenting bloodlust. When thou didst rise to destroy them, then fell heavy and fulfilled upon their corpses, the path of Darkness opened up before me, and I knew what it was to be Forsaken. I see a great many more that will fall before thee. Return to the arena with me, and show me thy skill in the dark arts."

Hyzanthlay took a step towards him, and regarded the strange creature closely. Behind his long grin and sloping shoulders was a deep, melancholy gravity.

"My fury is saved for the enemies of the Forsaken," she replied in a low voice, "The Scarlet Crusade more than any other. When the time comes to defile their most sacred places perhaps you will aid me."

"Oh, my dear Lady, I would be most honoured." Eucalypto bowed low, and if a Forsaken could shiver with joy he might have done so. In this case, however, it was just the breeze ruffling his shredded shirt.

Hyzanthlay strode into Orgrimmar. Eucaypto returned to the sparring circle. They would meet again.


	58. Chapter 58

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Thus Hyzanthlay's first voyage to Kalimdor began. On the whole, it was relatively brief but memorable. As her sarcastic friend had predicted, the bright sun and dry heat were not to her liking. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the harsh Barrens had a few isolated, dirty secrets that she could enjoy.

Refuge for an overworked Forsaken could be found in the leafy oasis that surrounded the Crossroads. Every so often the pungent odour of centaur swept over the slimy, still water, driving away the more faint of heart. She gleefully hacked away at their numbers to prove her worth to the local Tauren. After an entire camp had been raided and slaughtered, and her boots were sticky with horse blood, she boldly settled in an open and grassy, but shady vantage spot to fish. Her mere presence made the near feral horse-people nicker and gallop away in fear. But when the wind turned to a cool northern breeze, the reek of night elf wafted across the grass. Hyzanthlay thought better of her pride and found a more secluded spot closer to the water.

There were few undead here, but a fellow Forsaken and apothecary in the Crossroads had asked her to find him some fungal spores and while she was at it, he recommended trying her hand at fishing.

"Not that you need to eat," Apothecary Helbrim had explained, when she grimaced at him, "but cooking might suit you as well. And what sinks to the bottom can prove to be quite...useful."

What drives away a night elf with disgust will lure the undead with fierce curiosity. The mire that covered the Forgotten Pools did indeed contain a myriad of useful junk, and Hyzanthlay was not too proud to trade even the most meagre items for a few copper before heading to Thunder Bluff. Many vendors here were too happy to give her anything just to make her go away. She offered the friendly apothecary in the Crossroads her catch thinking he could use it, but he recommended she keep it; "especially since you are an alchemist yourself."

The sun was unbearable, and the meagre shelter of the Crossroads. The little hamlet was little more than a transit point in the vast, rocky plain that stood between Kalimdor and Mulgore. Hyzanthlay's natural undead hunch actually seemed to increase as she turned her head away from the blazing afternoon heat.

The inn, if it could even be called that, was a round, fat clay hut with a grass roof, identical to most of the buildings in town except slightly bigger. It was cool and dark inside, reminiscent of the Shallow Grave, and Hyzanthlay wondered how soon she could return to Tirisfal Glades. Strellabelle had mentioned a place that needed more immediate attention, at the personal request of the Dark Lady and the Dreadlord Varimathras himself. They would meet again in a place called the Sepulcher, an undead outpost in the opposite direction. She moved toward the smoking grill near the bar, which seemed to be the most active area at the moment.

The flames licked hungrily around the meat on the barbeque. The grizzle bubbled in protest. A troll customer licked her bright green lips and waved her tankard in the air as she spoke to the chef. The orc cook wielded a huge knife that he would occasionally turn on its side to use as a tenderizer. Bits of meat and bone would constantly fly from the cutting board to the ground, only to be quickly snapped up by the crocodile curled up on the rough floor. It looked upward constantly for the next hapless morsel to fall, alternatively staring at its troll mistress for scraps. Sometimes she would grab a large bone, horn or hoof from the cutting table and carelessly let him have it. She cooed with adoration and bragged to the other patrons about his nasty disposition and boundless appetite.

Hyzanthlay felt a strange emptiness, and wished her imp wasn't such a snivelling coward. She was comforted by the thought of summoning more powerful demons.

She asked the cook, in her best orcish, if he had fish on his menu, and if he didn't, would he like add it?

"You keep the fish," the Orc replied, regarding her with no surprise or disgust. "You buy this from me. I have good recipes." He waved his bloody cleaver in the direction of the bar, where a disorganized shelf of supplies stood, including some scrolls. A few drops of gore dripped from the knife onto the crocodile's face. It twitched happily on the cool stone floor in response.

The troll slammed down her mug. The she laughed and said;

"Don't you hear what he say, that one good, this one bettah." She reached into her bag and pulled out a scroll that didn't look any different than the few the cook had tucked away behind the bar.

Hyanthlay respected the strength of the orcs, but saw the disdain in their eyes when she drew near to them. It was not so much a fear as a primal apprehension. Tauren's regarded her the same way, but their dignified manner also hid deep pity and unspeakable horror. It was only when she spoke to trolls that she found more of a profound understanding. Their deeply set eyes and yellow fangs make them more like demons themselves.

"This has strong medicine," she reached into Hyzanthlay's pile of fish and grabbed a certain one. It looked a normal fish; its skin was dull grey and it was barely big enough to keep, but a dusting of small red flecks distinguished it. Turned to the light, it shone gold. The troll grabbed it and split it open with a little knife before tossing it on the fire with some herbs.

"They call it Deviate Fish," the troll said. "This one priest from my village, they say he have powah, they say he strong medicine. And I go to his temple where he be. And he split me open and he eat me, eat me like a fish! How fierce be the troll gods when they hungry!"

The other patrons roared with approval. The trolls were famous for their lechery and lack of shame. The raw flesh spat and fizzled on the grill. Hyzanthlay curled her lip, appreciative but now dead inside to such longings.

The troll laughed, and scooped up the barely seared fish. Another patron, also a troll, boldly asked what she was taught in return for the offering of her body. In response, she picked the burning meat and gulped it down. In a puff of sparkling smoke, the troll was gone and in her place stood a human...a human dressed as a pirate! She smiled and laughed, sounding every bit like any comely lass in Goldshire. A roar of approval flooded the little inn, which had become more crowded as the afternoon waned. Hyzanthlay also enjoyed a long, husky laugh and clapped with appreciation. The disguise was a simple one that did not mask smell or fool animals, but the Alliance were a gullible lot and it would still have limited use.

"Now you be so ugly, you never learn no new recipe again," another troll jeered, a female with a yellow mohawk and a ring in her nose, clearly not impressed with her compatriot's new appearance.

Hyzanthlay agreed. Humans, especially females, were so repulsive.


	59. Chapter 59

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

The sun set and the undead warlock roused herself from the tavern. The troll hunter and many of the other patrons had long since left, and the grill had grown cold. The town had grown quiet. Apothecary Helbrim was still bustling about as if it was midday. All else was crickets and starlight.

Nothing could snuff out a hot Barrens sun like the deep, rolling hills of Mulgore. Hyzanthlay could see the tall grasses moving like waves in the moonlight as her wyvern soared towards the four tall mesas that made up Thunder Bluff. From a distance, the Tauren capital might have been mistaken for a gnome or goblin city because of the prominent windmills, which were in constant movement. The lack of black smoke and mechanical noise in the air confirmed the difference.

Hyzanthlay had but a few errands to run before her return and she meant to be quick about it. The white light in the sky bore down on her like an unblinking eye and gave her no peace. She had hoped that travel at night would have been easier, but the high mesas seemed to be even closer to the moon and stars, which seemed to shine even brighter in the clear night.

"I know he's asleep," Hyzanthlay said coldly. "Wake him up."

"I will not," The young Tauren warrior remained unmoved. "The Master rises early, and you will not wait long. You may find repose in The Pools of Vision, so your presence does not disturb our people."

Hyzanthlay snarled in frustration, but there was little that could be done. She missed the sleepless denizens of Undercity, but they could only teach her so much. One thing she had already learned about the Tauren was they were well aware of their size and capacity for strength. They would not be moved, either from sentry duty or sleep.

There were few undead in Thunder Bluff, much fewer than Orgrimmar, but an interest in alchemy and herbalism was one of the few common threads between the two races. Few Tauren ventured to the ravaged Tirisfal, but they knew of it, and saw the echoes of the Scourge appear in their own sacred lands even a continent away. Fear, tempered by wisdom, compelled them to reach out to the Undead. Hence Apothecary Zamah was allowed to carry out certain experiments and train the Forsaken that did find their way to Thunder Bluff; as long as they remained in the Pools of Vision beneath Spirit Rise, and out of sight.

A brief chat with Zamah made Hyzanthlay forget her discomfort for the moment. The Pools of Vision were dark and eerie, and the air was still and cold with moss and rock. Hyzanthlay lingered for a while with her fellow Forsaken. Every one of them was there to train or research, with one notable exception, and rather sour creature named Clarice.

"It was my name in life," she said, and Hyzanthlay was surprised for the second time. Here was yet another undead creature who had greeted her by referring to their former life. She asked Clarice for an explanation regarding her clothing; her robes were untarnished, unstained, sewn with golden thread and cut of rich textiles, but faded with age and decorated with regalia of the Scarlet Crusade.

"As I've heard of you, Hyzanthlay, and what you did to the Crusade in Tirisfal Glades, I am honoured to tell you."

With no small amount of bitterness and animosity, Clarice recounted her last few weeks of life. She described the depth of her faith, her adherence to the strict tenets of the Crusade, and her purity as a wife to a well known crusader. Most of her life had been spent serving the Crusade and learning only their wisdom. When her husband left her to fight the Scourge, she ignored the pain in her heart and shook away feelings of anger and regret. She described her funeral after succumbing to plague in his absence, a feast of white flowers and frightened, drawn faces. Even snickering as she described how she had to lie still while they dressed her and laid her in a stone coffin, waited patiently until the mourners had left before rising from her family crypt. Her husband was interred rather sloppily only a few days later.

"The survivors...were in a bit of a hurry, you see."

Clarice muttered something about making the grave respectable, so hard to find good help, such cowards when they see what Death really looks like. Did they think the Scourge would be blinded by the light emanating from their holy armor?

She had spent weeks lost and tormented, wandering the wooded, misty hills of Silverpine Forest as Prince Arthas and the Scourge had ravaged Lordaeron. She remained when he withdrew to Northrend, still bound by some inexplicable force to the Sepulcher. At last, she was drawn away to the Undercity by the call of Sylvanas and the Forsaken. The spell that bound her to the old cemetery had been broken.

"I only stopped long enough to desecrate his headstone," she snarled. "I heard they reached the outskirts of Andorhal before they were cut down. Such devoted fools in life, the both of us, Yuriv and I!"

A stillness fell over the Pools at he end of Clarice's story. The dawn was coming.

"Always second," she muttered angrily, "always second to his blasted duty and that ! #$% Abbendis. You have business in the Sepulcher, the site of my family's tomb. Yuriv's grave is a modest one. I cannot bear to return; the thought of the place enrages me. Return this to his tomb so I would be freed from my former life for good. That you have no memory of it is a blessing, the last one the Fates will ever bestow upon you!

"Do not think on your former life. Humans are the true scourge, Hyzanthlay, and it's evident your hate for the Crusade runs as deep as mine. It will make you strong. Take your revenge for the both of us."

Clarice tossed a flimsy silver pendant to Hyzanthlay, who thanked the fellow Forsaken for her wisdom before returning to the Weapon Master. As she stood before the tent, waiting for the old bull to rouse himself, the dead woman's words rang in her head.

_That bitch Abbendis.  
Your hate for the Crusade.  
Do not think on your former life._

Hyzanthlay smiled, feeling her resolve strengthen. Clarice had certainly given her good advice. It was a shame that she would not be able to take it.


	60. Chapter 60

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Silverpine Forest was dotted with orchards and country homes, and the Sepulcher was the area's central graveyard. It had never been a place of human habitation. Coveted by the upper class due to it's peaceful vantage point over Lordamere Lake, the graveyard and death pits of Brill had swollen beyond capacity rather than inconvenience the upper classes of Lordaeron and Alterac.

There were only a few large family crypts and the rows of headstones were even and well-tended. Yuriv's was located next to the crooked metal fence at the far corner.

There was little reason to have any respect for the sanctity of the dead now. Hyzanthlay jumped on the short metal partition, then stood on it for a moment before hopping directly onto a stone coffin before the headstone. She moved with all the apathy of a child jumping on the furniture.

She inspected the stone symbol at her feet as she carefully used it to clean some of the grime off her boots. It was the sign of the Scarlet Crusade combined with a few other emblems referring to the kingdom of Lordaeron. Hyzanthlay dropped the silver pendant on the two stone hands gripping a stone hilt. Then she dropped off the tomb to the ground and stood still for a moment.

A profound quiet seemed to settle over the hillside for a moment. There was nothing here. Hyzanthlay kept walking, and made no other attempt to tend to the grave.

Strellabelle had emerged from the largest family tomb, where the Forsaken had their base.

"We're going to Shadowfang Keep," she muttered. "Have you ever heard of it?"

"Of course," Hyzanthlay replied.

"Recently a Deathguard has gone missing, and perhaps we'll meet Arugal himself. The Forsaken have decided that raiding the lower levels for supplies and...um...specimens isn't enough. Windrunner herself has decided that the Archmage has to die. Stealing his research isn't enough anymore."

"I know a rogue, if we need help," Hyzanthlay ventured. But Strellabelle waved her hand dismissively.

"This mission is too important; the Dark Lady and High Executor Hadrec have seen to our companions personally."

"And what is our mission?"

"To determine what happened to two of Lady's agents, kill Arugal, and collect any more research or communication that we can. Special consideration should be given to any correspondence with Dalaran and a certain tome known as The Book of Ur. I will continue the debriefing as soon as the rest of our party arrives."

Hyzanthlay grinned. Tthe demonic powers they had included a spell that could summon others regardless of their location. This was Strellabelle's way of saying the party would arrive and the mission would begin only when they were ready. She was in no hurry, as humans and wolves did little to excite her. The fall of Shadowfang Keep would be relatively easy.

"Perhaps," Hyzanthlay suggested, "we could infiltrate the Keep in secret, and summon others once inside?"

"We can't summon from inside. Our spies have already determined as such. Do not forget, we are dealing with powerful mages. I see inside your dark mind, my friend, and I and understand your hunger. The Scarlet Crusade must wait for now. You are Forsaken, and should have more respect for the wishes of the Dark Lady. Are you not ready?"

After some repairs, Hyzanthlay and Strellabelle put their talents to work. Thus, the two Tauren who joined them did not have to travel all the way from Mulgore. A troll hunter, with fierce eyes and scars along his cheeks and hands, also joined them but would not say where he was from nor his name. He introduced his scruffy wolf as Fang, and cautioned the other party members that he was always ravenous and indiscriminate. It sounded more like a boast than a real concern. Hyzanthlay remembered the troll hunter from the tavern in the Crossroads, and was glad to have him.

The Tauren warrior and druid were cool and businesslike at first, clearly out of their element in the misty, mossy Sephulcher. Hyzanthlay sensed they did not want to be here but were taking the situation very potions were brewed. The weapons and armour had the correct enchantments against shadow and poison. The ideal pathway through the keep had been mapped. And two warlocks meant two soulstones, and plenty of healthstones just in case of emergencies. The Warrior, a Tauren named Earthroot, cautioned the warlocks about the use of Fear in the enclosed spaces they would be encountering.

Hyz grinned wickedly. Fear was a spell that she herself rarely used. It had an unpredictable effect, sometimes causing the victims to turn and blindly run as their skin rotted off or burned, which provided a rather miserable anti-climax to a fight. Hyzanthlay preferred to finish her victims with her sword and enjoy a hot meal rather than chew a clammy corpse that had been lying the underbrush. Still, it pleased her immensely that it was their signature spell.

"The worgen also have the power of Silence," she added, casting her eyes over the spellcasters and hunter, to the Druid healer. "See that you are prepared, lest I fall."

"You will not fall," the Druid replied calmly, and for the first time Hyzanthlay regarded their healer. He carried the same noble air as his brethren, but with none of the silent pity or politely hostile demeanour. In fact, he almost seemed to regard the warlocks with a keen interest. When Hyz looked at him, she was greeted with a toothy, comical grin instead of the usual stiff, serious nod. He looked vaguely familiar but she could not place him.

Hyzanthlay pouted and snarled all along the road to Pyrewood Village and the Keep. Insane mages and mangy dogs! Hyzanthlay didn't care for mages, as she was frequently mistaken for one until she picked up a sword or summoned a demon. She didn't care for the Kirin Tor, as they were Alliance.

Dogs. Hyz actually almost regretted killing a few of the weaker worgen and wolves along the road. Something about their eyes reminded her of a dark place beyond the tomb from which she had crawled.

The air in Silverpine Forest was always cold, bitter and tainted with the coppery smell of blood. The worgen who roamed the hills were not native to Azeroth. Only a night elf could be so careless as to unleash such a thing upon the world, and only a human would be so foolish as to think they could be kept as pets. Hyzanthlay was grateful that the threat of night elves was miles from here. Her looming voidwalker, who had very politely introduced himself as Phannuz at their recent meeting, did not have a nose and made no comment on their observations.

The Kingdom of Gilneas still stood. From the drawbridge leading to the keep, they could see the Greymane Wall in the distance. The two Warlocks could hear the wails of the refugees huddled along the wall. No help would come to them from cursed kingdom of Greymane.

Earthroot unsheathed her mace and strode over the wooden drawbridge. "Let us begin!"


	61. Chapter 61

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

There were no guards or gargoyles on the ragged, mossy towers. The thick blocks of stone that had formed the base of the Keep and fastened it to the hillside were worn and smooth. Now the stench of wet dog and the occasional gluttural howl was usually enough to keep away any intruders.

The five adventurers, along with a shaggy wolf and two demons, left the shade of the winding mountain road and stepped over the hulking drawbridge. It groaned with every step. As they drew closer to the forbidding door, the stones grew clearer through the mists. Green moss bled down from the threshold. The sounds of the forest disappeared as they drew closer. All the adventurers could hear now was the echo of dripping water and the occasional crow of a carrion bird.

Earthroot listened closely at the door for a moment. She turned and nodded gravely. Her companions drew back and unsheathed their weapons. Only the Druid remained unmoved, staring closely at the door.

The Warrior's mace rose into the air, making a slight whisper as it punched through the fog, then a solid, heavy crunch as it smashed the lock and bolt securing the entrance.

From the look and feel of the heavy, weathered door, it was expected that it would take a few tries to smash through the heavy, soggy wood. The adventurers were surprised - but not unprepared - to see the old door swing open quite easily and with little noise. It was what they saw immediately inside that gave them pause.

Crumpled on the floor behind a steel grate, only a few feet ahead of them, were the mangled remains of Deathstalker Vincent. And standing over him was none other than the Archmage Arugal himself.

Hyzanthlay's first thought was very practical. The element of surprise had clearly been lost.

For a few moments, Arugal did not seem to notice them. They could hear his voice, tinged with shame and madness, muffled by the mists;

"I have changed my mind loyal servants, you do not need to bring the prisoner all the way to my study, I will deal with him here and now. Vincent! You and your pathetic ilk will find no more success in routing my sons and I than those beggardly remnants of the Kirin Tor. If you will not serve my Master with your sword and knowledge of his enemies..."

Arugal stopped. He drew himself to his full height. It might have been a trick of the shadows and fog, but his head seemed to turn slightly towards the door before his voice reached an angry crescendo;

"Your mouldering remains will serve ME as a testament to what happens when one is foolish enough to trespass in my domain!"

As Arugal spoke, the party had quickly entered the Keep and readied their weapons and spells, expecting to take care of business immediately. Hyzanthlay snarled in anticipation, hoping that Arugal would impress her with some real arcane fortitude. The booming voice of the Archmage shook the foundations of the Keep. The wind hissed and moaned, blowing the door firmly shut. Then Arugal was gone.

"He has retreated," hissed Earthroot, after a few moments of silence. She turned to the others.

"He must have seen us," Hyzanhtlay hissed, more in frustrated than anything else. Perhaps he hadn't? That was a more likely explanation. That fool! He could not have run from them. That was just too pathetic.

"Strong magics here, but only undead and worgen," sniffed the Hunter, who had taken a few moments to examine the ground. His wolf was unnervingly calm and unmoved. "No beasts that will surprise us, anyway."

"Silverlaine's ghostly troops will guard the Keep from intruders, as their duty binds them," the Druid whispered. "The worgen are everywhere, and their Master has given them orders! We will pursue him to his inner sanctum. Prepare yourselves."

"We have orders of our own, and they must be seen to." Strellabelle pointed to the remains of Deathstalker Vincent.

Access to the inner courtyard was blocked by the thick steel bars. They would have to move through the stables and a small stockade in order to reach it.

Fang, who had been bristly and jumpy before entering the keep, now moved with a calm fluidity. The adjoining room, only dark and cold a moment ago, was now filled with gleaming red eyes. Fang turned and made sure they saw him first, before they noticed the flying mace.

The next few rooms became a cluttered mess of burning dog hair and angry yelping. Earthroot cut a path for them through the snarling worgen and their wolf companions. The Hunter was silent and deadly, picking off anything that managed to get through the gauntlet the warlocks had formed in front of the healer.

Between the two of them, that didn't amount to much. They left a path of smouldering wood and burning straw behind them. Both warlocks were secretly impressed with the fearless worgen in battle; they ran towards them with all the snarling madness of rabid dogs, but stood upright to face their foes. They did not run even when on the verge of death. It occurred to Hyzanthlay that there was something very human about them, which made her feel better about killing them.

What had once been a more open area was now enclosed with various awkward renovations. Arugal had made a number of aesthetic and practical changes to accommodate his "children." Several old pieces of furniture lay broken and strewn about. The result was a rank, twisted jungle of shabby stairways and piles of straw.

Thankfully the smoke and debris from the warlock's work rose into the high cathedral ceiling. Usually the view of it was blocked out by a wooden landing or boardwalk that had been added later. As the group came to the foot of a thick, wide staircase that looked weathered with age, the halls were brightened by the moonlight that came streaming in through the higher windows. They were rising above the hills of Silverpine Forest, leaving even the foggy clouds behind.


	62. Chapter 62

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

The air seemed to grow more bitter as they ascended the stairs. The vaulted ceiling was filled with cobwebs and dust, and the snarling worgen that ran down to meet them seemed even bigger and more rabid than the previous ones.

"We are nearing the courtyard," Strellabelle sniffed quietly, "the large door to the right."

But it was securely locked; and this was no ragged back door. It would not be forced or enchanted. Even a rogue might have been at a loss. Beyond the door, restless spirits as well as wolf people waited to meet the intruders. Hyzanthlay sniffed the air, and detected a familiar, rank door.

"Adament is not far," she whispered, and pointed to another stairway leading down to their left. This was the stockade, and they would have to investigate it. Any live prisoners might be of some use to them.

There was a hulking worgen with dark bronze fur and burning red eyes waiting with a bristling entourage, ready to ambush them. In the cramped, dark space and flickering torchlight, this determined creature broke through the warlocks and threw itself at the Druid.

They had chosen their moment of attack deliberately. Earthroot was overwhelmed with defending herself and could not help him.

The Druid barely blinked at the creature that surged towards him. What skin was visible through the burning bronze fur was already rotting away from the warlock's corruption. A few of the hunter's arrows had embedded themselves in his back and shoulders. He would not survive the battle but was determined to reach the healer, and cripple him.

The Druid took a step back, but didn't flinch. He narrowed his eyes and held his great, heavy hands out before his chest. The bronze worgen leapt, strings of spit glimmering at his shoulders. But he did not fall upon a stricken healer. Instead, he met a massive bear brandishing a pair of sharp, shimmering ox horns. He still managed to sink a fang into the shoulder and rake his claws across the bear's neck before being shaken off. The Druid swung a hulking paw of his own, but could only knock the worgen off balance for a moment.

Hyzanthlay had taken notice of the charging worgen and knew that the healer must be protected. She gave no thought as to her own fate to distract the charging wolf-man. She did not do this out of concern or self-sacrifice; she had little value for her own existence and understood the importance of their quest.

Searing Pain was a spell she liked; it was equally painful as well as annoying, and always made the victim look back at her in surprised agony. Quite satisfying. It might not have worked with such a raging, determined creature, but the worgen had been disoriented by the Druid's transformation and turned upon her immediately.

It charged at Hyzanthlay and swung one of it's clawed front paws with all its strength. The warlock remembered the force of the blow, but did not remember crashing through a wooden railing before hitting a wall and falling down the stairs to the Stockade. There she lay until her companions dug her out of the straw and bits of charred wood and began to perform their healing spells.

Hyzanthlay heard the snickering of an undead male. Her vision cleared, and she saw the fuzzy outline of a rogue. She only knew one undead rogue by name.

"Eucalypto...?" She muttered, then she heard another familiar voice.

"Ah, yes, I thought I knew you, Warlock. But I was occupied when we were first introduced."

Hyzanthlay's vision cleared, and she saw the fuzzy form of the Druid come into focus before her.

"Rik," she said, now recognizing him after seeing his bear-form. "Well met."

"Hail, and don't be such a fool in the future." He cast another healing spell or two before poking rather critically at the corner of her cloth robe. "I may be a healer, but you are more vulnerable than I..."

Hyzanthlay snarled at the word "vulnerable" and lurched to her feet.

"I have died once, perhaps I'm keen to try again," she sneered. And she expected Rik to flinch or frown at her words but he did neither. Instead, he smiled and replied;

"I'm afraid not, for your friend Eucalypto would not have it. He has found memories of his life in Tirisfal Glades, and despises the Scourge and the Scarlets. If you fell on my account, he would never forgive me."

The rogue she had first seen was Adamant, now freed from his prison. The other cell remained shut but was not vacant. A human mage was the occupant. He regarded them calmly but defiantly and would only speak in the human vernacular, a language none of them knew. The Forsaken used a language known as Gutterspeak among each other, and the Common tongue of the Horde was Orcish, of course a language that very few humans knew. Adamant and Strellabelle remembered a word or two, but Hyzanthlay had no memory of the tongue she must have spoken habitually.

"We should kill him," Strellabelle hissed. But the Tauren were reluctant to kill a prisoner. The mage had also made no attempt to attack or threaten them.

"I sense no wards, no magical bindings," the Hunter said. "He is here as an observer, and has seen what he came to see."

Hyzanthlay narrowed her eyes at the human, who looked back at her. He was clearly not fearless but contained his emotions well.

"Then he will have to earn the right to report," Strellabelle hissed, and pulled the lever to open the cell door.

There was a flash, and the voidwalker blundered through a cloud of shimmering smoke. The mage had disappeared.

"And now, the re-enforcements from Dalaran will come," Earthroot shouldered her mace. The city of mages was nearby, where it stood defiantly on the opposite shore of Lordamere Lake. "We must make haste."


	63. Chapter 63

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Adamant unlocked the door for them before returning the way the party had come. It was agreed that he would return to the Sepulcher to report. Searching Vincent's corpse for any clues would be up to the adventurers.

It was the first open air they had seen in some time. A few scattered clouds moved across the sky, shading out the clear stars and a stark crescent moon. The courtyard not only had worgen to contend with, but also the ghostly remnants of the previous tenants. Baron Silverlaine was the original owner of the Keep and stubbornly remained when the worgen overran it. It seems the mad mage had adopted them as well as the wolf people when he moved into the Keep.

Vincent's remains had nothing of interest or value, and Rik rather sombrely confirmed that he was beyond all healing or resurrection. Strellabelle shrugged, and tossed an old piece of clothing from the ground over his upper body.

"At least someone was here to pay some respect to the body," she hissed, "and he will be avenged."

They moved on, and little more was spoken. Now that they were outdoors, silence was even more important. Their path now took them up winding stairs and precarious balconies and bridges as they continued upward. Fang seemed a little unnerved by their high, precarious path and stayed close to his master unless fighting. The ghostly soldiers attacked the adventurers as if still guarding their lord's Keep. It was strange for the Tauren to watch the translucent figures fall in battle, only to see them rise and continue their patrol only moments later as if nothing had happened.

"They don't even know, do they? I'd rather be killed and eaten by a band of murlocs," Hyzanthlay whispered to Strellabelle. The undead had a nice private laugh over it.

At last, they reached the central tower and began to climb a dizzying flight of thick, stone steps. The remains of what once had been a thick red carpet softened their steps. Ornate flags and crests hung from the walls, and they were surprisingly well-kept. They had not been gnawed at or soiled by the worgen. They were finally close to Arugal himself.

Earthroot muttered something about the air being too still, the walls and floor being too quiet. Fang had returned to himself again, sniffing and drooling with enthusiasm. As if in answer, a guttural wolf howl cut through the silence. It was a long, drawn howl that echoed throughout the tower. Unlike the other occasional howls that they had heard, it was deep and angry, was a seemed to be coming from the very top of the stairs.

"Fenrus, the Devourer, at last," the Hunter smiled with enthusiasm, patted Fang with rough affection and said something in Trollish. Hyzanthlay listened with interest. So the Hunter was here for Fenrus. It made sense; he would make a fine pelt and an even better trophy. Her thoughts turned briefly to the anthropomorphic Troll gods. Surely there was a wolf in this pantheon. Did the Hunter have the same orders, or would he leave Arugal to them?

"He guards the Mage's study, and our Book of Ur," Hyzanthlay said quietly, "we may face the beast and his master at once."

"It would be suicide to face us alone," Earthroot thought out loud.

The adventurers had to fight their way up the stairs, and the double doors at the very top were unguarded. The party took a brief respite. It was difficult to keep Fang calm now; every howl he heard from inside the doors drove him deeper into a canine frenzy. He snarled and gripped the stones with his front claws, returning the guttural cry that came from behind the heavy doors.

"Fenrus must be killed first," Rik said. "Warlocks, we will need an imp for extra fire and a voidwalker to help Earthroot and Fang; there is no telling what the mage will do. And lastly, please, soulstones for both myself and my fellow Tauren."

It was serious business indeed, if the confident Druid believed there was a chance they could fall. The Warlocks worked in a rushed silence that was only interrupted by the angry howl of Fenrus the Devourer only feet away. The Hunter inspected the door closely and concluded that it was not locked or barred.

Earthroot narrowed her large brown eyes and snarled at the door. Fenris howled his challenge.

"For our ancestors," she roared, and she raised one of her great hooves and kicked the heavy doors with all her strength.


	64. Chapter 64

A fierce storm fumed over the plagued lands of Azeroth. The foul gale unleashed by the storm beat relentlessly upon the long abandoned villages now crumbling in disrepair. It began to lose the taint it had accrued in the north as it swept through the broken nation of Alterac. Bringing a chill from the snowy reaches the wind blew over the green fields of Hillsbrad. The young Shu'halo paused in her work to inhale deeply, opening her arms wide as she embraced the sun, wind and air. Tiponi opened her eyes and gazed at the remains of the creature of her feet. The mighty Snapjaw turtle, deserving of its namesake she considered as she nursed her still profusely bleeding finger, lay crumpled before her. She knelt and spoke a prayer to its spirit.

"Venerable turtle spirit, I humbly thank you for your gift. May you find peace now in the Earthmother's arms."

She bent low and scooped up the remains, dropping them into her woven basket. That should be enough. It would not be a long walk to Tarren Mill.

Despite being a bustling little town, Tarren Mill looked to be in a state of disrepair. Cobwebs lined the eaves and rubbish littered the floor. Tiponi tried not to judge. Despite her short stature for a Shu'halo, she had to duck low to enter the inn. She found the Forsaken she was looking for immediately.

"Ahhhhhh...You hhhhhhave returned." The man rasped. Although he still had the use of his jaw, unlike some unfortunates she had met prior, the man could not help but speak with a rasping throaty voice, and when he inhaled to speak a horrible high pitched keening emerged from somewhere in his throat. The other Forsaken in the room appeared not to notice it, so Tiponi tried to ignore it also. She had already made some mistakes across the culture barrier and she was trying not to make any more. She had felt sorry for them, but when she assured them that one day a cure would be found their reactions were startling. Most just stared, some laughed... one innkeeper bodily threw her out! These poor people were in denial, they did not wish to raise their hopes in the face of disappointment. She could respect that. A strong people, braving an affront to the Earthmother in their very bodies! She swallowed convulsively. A maggot had wormed its way out of a burrow in Master Jeffcoat's head and disappeared again into his rotting flesh. She opened her mouth, and paused, uncertain as to the proper etiquette. Would the man like to be informed of his infestation? A Shu'halo would have certainly, but these people had strange customs. She decided to hold her tongue.

She coughed politely, "Oh yes sir, I have the meat you requested here." She held up her offering of turtle bits. The Forsaken peered at her with those strange orb eyes and reached a clawed hand into her basket.

"Yesss, nooo, yess, very good. Hhhhere is the silver you were promisssed." He said as he began sorting through the pile. Innards flew out of the basket and landed in a heap on the floor. When he was done she peered back into the basket. He had left a good portion of the remains, the skin, some viscera and shells.

"Spirits guide you." she said bowing low.

Tiponi took her basket and returned to her place by the river where she could watch the sun beginning to set. She built a campfire and began scouring out the Snapjaw shells. She could make a bowl or some jewellery perhaps. Nothing the turtle gave would be wasted. She smiled to herself. That went quite well.


	65. Chapter 65

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

The hulking, shaggy beast was waiting for them to open the door. Hyzanthlay barely had time to take a look at the room before the great wolf threw himself at the charging Tauren.

It was a circular, domed room lined with candles and bookshelves. A circular walkway surrounded the roof, and it was occupied.

"The Mage comes," Strellabelle pointed upward, to where Arugal was calmly standing in full view of them. He spoke not a word and did not so much as raise his arms.

As Rik had planned, Earthroot, Fang and the voidwalker concentrated on Fenrus.

Fire and howling filled the chamber. Fenrus was a fearsome creature, but he could not stand against the determined adventurers. The hunter filled the creature with arrows, and the warlocks threw their fire and disease in his path. It was not before his long, black snout was caked with blood from Earthroot's repeated blows. But Fenrus' own fangs were bloody with blood that was not his.

Hyzanthlay waited for Arugal. She watched him out of the corner of her glowing orbs, waiting for one of the greatest mages alive to make a move. But he just stood there, with a strange unearthly calm, watching them. Wasn't this creature his pet, or his child...what was it he had said?

Fenrus' eyes were blinded with blood. He crouched and snarled defiantly, now a wounded animal near death. Bloody drool dripped from his loose jaw, and his paws left smears of red on the floor.

A noble creature indeed, Hyzanthlay thought, and a strange emotion took hold of her. Normally proudly sadistic, Hyzanthlay decided that watching the creature in pain was strangely displeasing. She began to cast one of her most powerful destructive spells, in a sudden hurry to put it out of its misery.

And still, as Fenris lay dying, bludgeoned, burned and lying dead in a pool of its own gore, Arugal did not act.

This enraged Hyzanthlay. They and followed him all this way! Why had he done nothing?

"Arugal!" She roared angrily. "You helpless coward!"

The mage's head jerked towards her as if startled out of a trance. He raised his hand and stepped back, then vanished. But he did not leave the party alone. Already battered from the fight with Fenrus, four voidwalkers appeared and rushed towards them. Luckily they were weak creatures and fell fairly quickly, but Earthroot still turned to Hyzanthlay in anger.

"That was uncalled for, Warlock," she spat.

"The fool must be suicidal," Hyzanthlay retorted, thrusting Earthroot's own words back at her.

"That mage is a being of great power," Earthroot spoke carefully but she was shaking with rage. "You risk our lives..."

"The mad mage sends his minions in to die, then runs from us!?" Hyzanthlay's voice was tainted with anger. Strellabelle gripped her shoulder and said,

"What my colleague means, Tauren, is that the mage might not be as powerful as our intelligence originally reported."

Earthroot shook her mane, and Hzyanthlay twitched slightly. The party breathed again as the tension seemed to dissipate from the room. The Hunter had barely noticed the altercation, busy as he had been with tending to the corpse of Fenrus. Fang stood by proudly as his master dressed the beast. Rik helped but took some note of the heated discussion between the undead and Earthroot.

"Fine pelt, fine trophy," the Hunter patted the large bundle tenderly. He was spattered with blood and bits of black hair. "It be an honour to face the Devourer, and win his hide! I thank all here, friends and witnesses. And now, we kill the Master! Eh, now you get your scalp, Warlock! Yeah, I know what you be waitin' for! Arugal, now we kill!"

Hyzanthlay was so pleased with the Troll's enthusiasm and appearance that she forgot her anger. Strellabelle had found the Book of Ur without very much trouble; it was a tall, thick book with a shining purple cover. The mage had made no attempt to hide it or any of his other belongings.

"Not far now," Earthroot nodded to Rik, and the party moved soundlessly through the far doors of the study, up another flight of stairs, towards the highest tower of Shadowfang Keep.


	66. Chapter 66

The pale furred Tauren breathed deeply, trying vainly to buckle her armor straps. Tiponi sighed, it was already at the very end of the length of leather. She had outgrown her armor. The leather was old and well-worn but well oiled and loved. It had been her mother's before hers, made by her grandmother. It seemed a shame to discard it on a far distant continent from her homeland.

Try as she might, she could not hold onto the traditions of her people forever. Times were changing. Already the Shu'halo had settled from travelling nomads into an established city of their own. They shared influences of their own with the other races and could not help by be changed by them in turn. Times were changing yes, and she was changing ever faster.

The leather strap holding her shoulderpad in place snapped free and she roared in frustration. Looking up sheepishly she noticed a forsaken farmer gazing at her, mouth open and glowing orb eyes wide. In shock at her outburst...Or, maybe he just looked like that normally, hard to tell with these people. She smiled and waved enthusiastically and the fellow got back to his work.

New armor, yes. She couldn't keep wearing this old relic and longer. She should find a leatherworker and have him fashion her a new harness and...no! She stopped her train of thought cold. In her mind's vision she saw her memory of the orcs of Orgrimmar. They wore armor of metal and chainmail. Great metal plates with spikes. She would look truly fearsome in that armor... Her mind was made up, she must travel to the nearest city and have a new suit of armor commissioned, in the fashion of the orcs but made for her figure. She nearly skipped with glee as she made her way back to the inn.

"I have a message for Eucalypto, he can find me in Undercity."


	67. Chapter 67

There was a strange stillness to the forest of Silverpine that Tiponi could not quite place. It was as if the forest itself held bated breath in dreaded anticipation. The woods were dark and gloomy and the trees had a sickened look to them, but that was not what had the young Tauren looking over her shoulder. It was just so, quiet. Her hooves seemed to clatter too loudly on the cobblestones of the road leading to the Undercity. The air was cold but without a breeze and a thick mist clung heavily to the forest floor. She could barely see where she was headed, without the road she would have been lost for sure. She had never felt so alone in her life. She hadn't appreciated the comfort of her friends and family when they were around her, but here on the other side of the world without a friendly soul in sight she longed for their presence.

Two shapes appeared in the mist ahead of her, one small and one tiny, coming towards her down the road. She scrambled into a nearby bush, attempting to make as little noise as was possible. The fog parted, revealing two people in rich purple robes. One was a human male, judging by his grey beard and furless head, who walked with his hands clasped behind his back. The other was a miniature female, not much taller than Tiponi's kneecap. The little woman had a pile of green curls atop her head and was gesturing wildly with her hands. Tiponi had encountered few humans before, none friendly, but she could only guess that the tiny figure before her was a gnome. She tried to hold very still as they approached. She held her breath as they passed by her on the road, the gnome was speaking in an unfamiliar language as her compatriot nodded along. As soon as they disappeared into the fog behind her she rose to hurry along her way.

"Veld! Odes!" the shouts arose behind her. Quickly she looked and saw the two figures running out of the mist. She cursed and darted into the trees. A bolt of ice flew past her horns as she scrambled into the undergrowth. "Mages!," she thought, cursing her luck. She had little experience with wielders of the Arcane. The fog thickened amongst the trees and before long she had become turned around. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears as she ran. She could see nothing ahead except the limbs of great trees rising out of the grey blanket of fog. The fog lit up bright orange as a fireball hurtled towards her. Tiponi's warrior instincts kicked in and she threw herself aside, but her reaction was too slow. She howled in agony and rage and the flames hit her breastplate below the shoulder. Her armor was blackened and burnt through and her chest throbbed with pain. The gnome emerged from the fog, a grin splitting her face as she conjured up another blast. Growling, and clutching her wound with one hand, Tiponi lashed out with her hoof, throwing her body weight into the tiny creature. She felt the crunch against her hooves as she crushed the gnome's ribcage and she ran on assured that her adversary was no more.

She slowed to catch her breath against the bough of a large tree. She was beginning to feel light-headed and her hand came away from her chest thick with her blood. Conscious now that she was running out of time, Tiponi loped onwards, trying to get back to the road. Her vision was beginning to go blurry so she did not even see it in time to react to the bolt of frost magic unleashed against her. The human had returned. The ice magic had numbed her fingers such that when she thrust her spear into the mage she felt it jar into her shoulder, but the weapon slipped free from her numbed fingers. As the human lay dying, Tiponi stumbled. She did not remember hitting the ground.

The first thing she noticed was the light. It was a warm ambient light, not glaringly bright and not too dim. Then she saw the hooves before her eyes. She picked herself up from the ground that wasn't there and tried to fix her eyes upon her rescuer. It was a Shu'halo woman. She could not see her face, it was somehow obscured by the glowing light, but she knew she was beautiful and that she was safe here.

"Thankyou for saving..."

"Hush child," the woman interrupted placing a finger upon Tiponi's lips, "You mustn't give up yet child, there is too much left for you to do..."

"What?" Tiponi asked, confused and now trying to work out where she was, there was a forest?

"Open your eyes, that's it..."

Tiponi opened bleary eyes as the sounds began to coalesce into sense again. She was on a pallet under a wooden roof. She began to sit up and AGONY. Pain shot through her body and she collapsed again.

"Easy now," a soft voice said, "you need rest to recover." A Shu'halo woman with lightly tanned fur and a kind face sat beside her. She did not look familiar. "I am Mura, rest now, you'll be safe here."

"Where...there were wizards! In purple robes..." Tiponi felt as though all the strength had left her. Looking about she saw her weapons and armor had been recovered and placed by her side.

"You're in the Sepulcher. Those were wizards of the Kirin Tor. They have established themselves nearby, you were fortunate to escape them. Worry not, you must rest now. The healing herbs need time to work. Sleep now, young one."

The woman left Tiponi's side and she quickly felt her eyelids drooping. Her worries were forgotten as sleep took her.


	68. Chapter 68

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

There was a final long room at the top of the dark stairs. The top of the stairs was dark and musty. No torches lined the walls, no straw or wood burned nearby to light their way. The only meagre light now was the thin, white threads of moonlight that seeped in through the rotting wood. They could have easily conjured some light, but decided to use the shadows as a cover for the final assault. Beyond the room above them was the very pinnacle of the tower, where the mage was waiting.

The Hunter very quietly informed them that the large room was filled with both wolves and worgen; not much different from what they had been fighting through the whole time. No traps or ambushes of any kind. An eerie sense of foreboding settled among the party, even for the undead.

What ultimate horror did he have waiting for them?

Or was he actually just waiting to die?

The beasts in this room were fierce, but grave and sombre. They seemed to have a plan and followed it, attacking Earthroot at the same time, ignoring any distractions the Hunter or Warlocks attempted. At last, the great worgen who stood by the thick double doors at the end of the room uttered a forlorn, guttural howl and lurched towards Warrior's bloody mace.

For a few moments, they rested among the piles of smouldering bodies and charred wood. The Hunter decided to make a few quick alterations to his bow. Earthroot was skilled and strong, and none doubted her skill, but the Mage would move quickly, and the party would be depending on ranged damage.

Hyzanthlay sighed at the miserable anti-climax the pursuit of Arugal had turned into. She turned to Rik, who was sitting quietly by a patch of moonlight by the last set of doors. He was holding a bit of Fenrus' pelt, which he seemed to be studying intently.

"And if Eucalypto is so deeply concerned for my welfare," She asked, with a certain mock politeness, "then why is he not here to defend me personally?"

Rik did not look up right away, but snickered and smiled.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen Eucalypto in some time," he delivered this news with no gravity or distress. "He was last seen in Wailing Caverns, a famous place near my homeland. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"Fine fishing," Hyzanthlay said shortly.

"And fine mining and skinning, for those that have the skills." Rik lifted up the pelt and held it to the light. It had a thick, luxurious sheen, and even in her undead state Hyzanthlay knew it would have been very sensuous to touch.

"There's a lot of gold in it, and we need all our copper these days. We mean to start a guild; and you are welcome to join, Hyzanthlay, if you desire."

Strellabelle was busy for the moment with some potions, but she overheard this comment and snorted with disdain.

Strellabelle already had a guild, The Clan of the Fallen. They were venerated throughout Undercity and had been in existence since the rise of Sylvanas. They did not have petty annoyances to contend with, like lack of gold.

"We be ready," the Hunter announced quietly. And Earthroot nodded, in her usual grave way, as she hefted her great mace on to her shoulder. An unearthly calm had come over Fang, who no longer made any noise even to sniff the ground.

"And now, the head of Arugal," Hyzanthlay muttered with not a hint of excitement. "Anything I should know, in case he decides not just to lie down and die?"

"He does what mages do," Earthroot said calmly, ignoring Hyzanthlay's sarcasm. "I expect he will teleport. I will not be able to follow him immediately. Be careful if he shape-shifts; either himself or one of us."

"Ya, that be a thing to see," the Hunter said. Rik nodded, and rested his hand on the troll's scarred shoulder. Hyzanthlay was readying herself but listened closely. Shape-shifting was important to Druids and Trolls, but it was not a power that Warlocks knew.

These doors, like the ones before it, were not locked or barred. Earthroot prepared to open them the same way she had opened the others. Then she stopped and lowered her great hoof, almost as if she was tired. Instead, she calmly reached forward and turned the knob.

The door swung open with a frightened squeak. Nothing rushed to meet them but cold darkness.

There was a glow at the far end of what looked like a room that had been broken in half. The pale light shone through the jagged hole in the roof, and it reminded Hyzanthlay of the lonely light she had seen that night in the Crossroads; all were asleep but the good apothecary working before his beakers and candles under the stars. And then in the darkness she saw the figure hunched by the alchemy lab, in the same robes and hat she had seen him in downstairs.

Despite the noise they must have made opening the door, he took no notice of them at first.

The few beams of moonlight that shone through the ceiling were barely enough to illuminate the shattered room. Beyond a crooked stone door frame was a landing and a flight of stairs leading down and to the right. Arugal was standing on a broken platform straight ahead on their level. The Hunter and his pet crouched in the darkness by the entrance while the rest of the party made their way down the stairs.

As the party quickly and silently moved towards him, he stopped his work. His shoulders were hunched at first, and he moved slowly and deliberately to stand at his full height.

He turned to face them. Hyzanthlay did not wait for the rest of the party. She targeted the mage the moment Earthroot's hoof hit the first stair leading up to him. And he seemed to focus on her for a moment, and hesitate, before unleashing his fury.

Hyzanthaly was surprised to be hit by a shadow magic at first. The mage must of known that as an undead it would have a limited effect. It shook her but did little to prevent her from casting again. Earthroot was too quick to let Arugal cast at one of her charges a second time. In the next moment, the mage's line of sight was blocked by a massive pair of hooves and horns, crowned with a heavy mace.

Arrows began to fly across the room. Fang had silently slipped from his master's side and up the stairs. He joined Strellabelle's voidwalker and Earthroot in raining blows upon the mage.

Hyzanthlay cast in a way that was calm, almost bored; the mage would be down soon and they had not had much of a fight. All talk and no action; typical for a human, she thought.

Then the mage spoke;

"Release your RAGE!" He cried, and a heavy darkness swept through the room.

Earthroot's figure twisted and warped; the mace fell to the floor with a heavy clunk, her horns and hooves disappeared. In their place appeared red eyes, claws and fangs. The mage had turned her into one of his pets, a raging worgen!

Hyzanthanlay's lips opened in a wide grin. Now THAT was impressive!

In a flash of light, Arugal appeared on the platform next to the Hunter, who had already dropped his bow and unsheathed an axe with a vicious, jagged edge. He was by no means less threatening without his bow or his pet. He crouched low and swung decisively, striking one of Arugal's arms and causing him to miscast.

Earthroot, in her worgen form, was now a minion of the mage. She turned to charge down the stairs at Rik, who was occupied with the Hunter for the moment. A sickening crunch, followed by a bolt of pain in her ankle, changed her mind. She looked down and saw Fang, his snarling jaws locked on her tendon.

She roared in agony and rage. One of her great, shaggy paws clenched into a fist, swung around and made contact with Fang's snout. A fountain of blood burst from the creature's nose as its body lurched from the platform and fell, to lie in a motionless heap near the bottom of the stairs.

The shadow bolt flew over Strellabelle's head. Her voidwalker charged at Arugal, but he transported back to his original position as Earthroot flew down the stairs. Hyzanthlay turned to Rik, who did not look at her but said calmly, "Aim at the mage," as he narrowed his eyes and raised his hands in front of him.

Hyzanthlay concentrated her flames on Arugal and tried not to be too distracted by the vicious bear on worgen battle that was taking place at her shoulder. Despite the distraction of the healer and the warrior, Arugal was steadily being beaten; the undead warlocks were strong against his shadow spells, and the already fearless hunter had been driven to a lethal rage by Fang's terrible fall.

Arugal shuddered now, visibly weakened by the determined adventurers. The spell he had cast upon Earthroot was broken, and she shrank into a Tauren warrior again. She shook herself and did not hesitate to turn back to the mage.

Rik had barely returned to his Tauren form the moment Earthroot picked up her mace. The Hunter had moved down from the platform near the entrance to stand near Fang. The animal still had not stirred.

The mage's defences were broken. His mana was spent. He stared with angry defiance at the Tauren warrior as she raised her mallet and struck decisively.

She hit him where the neck and shoulder met, aiming for his collarbone. The crushing blow very nearly separated Arugal's head from his torso, and there was already a thick puddle of blood, bone and gore to meet his body where it fell.

Rik, although clearly exhausted and badly wounded, was already casting a few healing spells. Earthroot slowly lowered her mace and shuddered. A light shower of blood sprinkled over her hooves.

The Hunter gave no thought to himself or his companions. He was already crouched over Fang's body, speaking quietly to himself in Trollish. Strellabelle was distracted by Arugal's apothecary equipment and books. Hyzanthlay, who was unscathed for the most part, slowly made her way to the mage himself.


	69. Chapter 69

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

She expected his face to be twisted somehow, with anger, fear, pain, madness...whatever had driven him here, she expected it to be etched in his face somehow. But it was not. Except for the gaping wound below his neck, he seemed to simply be asleep, dreaming pleasantly.

"Him at peace," a voice at her shoulder said, and she looked up and saw the Hunter. He was cradling his axe in his hand and had a strange, blank look in his eyes. Strellabelle was standing at his side and it seemed like they had just spoken briefly. The other warlock did not have to speak; her glowing orbs said the words, Stand back.

Hyzanthlay did, but not in time to get a few drops of blood on her shoes. The Hunter had chopped the head of Arugal clean off with one heavy stroke. Strellabelle quickly grabbed it by the sticky hair and thrust it into a sack at her side. Then she motioned to Hyzanthlay. The Hunter stood over the remains, shoulders sagging, and took no notice as they swept away.

The two Tauren were crouched near Fang, and Hyzanthaly broke off from Strellabelle's path to walk towards them. The other warlock was out the door before she realized that she was no longer being followed. No matter; she knew where the Sepulcher was.

Earthroot was kneeling and chanting quietly in her native tongue. Rik was channelling a powerful healing spell and took no notice anything around him.

"Is it dead?" Hyzanthlay was heedless of the gravity of the situation and wondered why she even cared enough to ask about the lifeless bundle on the floor. The Hunter had sheathed his axe and calmly returned to his vigil at Fang's side. He leaned very close to the creature's side, close enough that his front tusks were buried in the thick, black fur. Rik filled the dreary room with green and white light. Hyzanthlay could barely contain her fascination when the creature stirred.

"Oh, well, look at that! I was sure it was dead." She exclaimed.

"Earthmother be praised," Earthroot raised herself up. She seemed just as relieved as the Hunter, whose unearthly calm had broken apart. He was weeping openly as he helped the shaggy beast to his feet. Fang was shaky and still rather bloody, but clearly not dead.

"Indeed, she has been kind to us this day." Rik seemed profoundly tired but pleased. "And perhaps she will visit us again. We will return to the Sepulcher and give our report."

They moved quickly out of the Keep. Worgen and wolves would no longer bother them, but the odd stray ghost would occasionally flash past their vision. The many fires they had set did little damage. It seems that they air and wood was too wet with clouds and mist to let the fire consume them completely.

The pelt of Fenrus was not the only heavy bundle the Hunter carried. When the party reached the foot of the hill, they buried the body of Arugal in a shallow grave near Pyrewood Village. As they threw a few shovel-fulls of dirt over what was left of it, Hyzanthlay drew a piece of linen from her bags and tossed it over the upper body.

He had been a mage of some power. He could have put up more of a fight. Perhaps he had wanted it to be this way.

"Congratulations, Hyzanthlay;" Rik said, as they began to make their way along the road. "The mage Arugal has officially been killed by Horde agents."

"My superiors will indeed be pleased." Hyzanthlay's voice was flat and dull.

"You are clearly not enthused," the Druid asked, with some interest. Earthroot's brown eyes flickered.

"Oh, I AM enthused," Hyzanthlay waved her hand dismissively. "The Keep was interesting enough. But I feel better about killing Crusaders than mages."

"Ah, of course! We can all be united in our hate of the Scarlet Crusade." Rik chuckled and Earthroot tousled her mane in agreement. "So, I suppose they killed you, then?"

Hyzanthlay was not shocked by Rik's blunt tone. In fact, his theory made sense.

"That's what could have happened. It seems I'm unique among my brethren in that I have no memory of my death and the life before it."

Rik was about to say something, but they were nearing the gates of the Sepulcher and one of the guards was gesturing towards them.

"Greetings," he said, "we have been told to watch for you, Druid. Please speak to Mura. She has need of a healer."

"I am busy today," Rik raised an eyebrow, and in a flash of shining mist, turned into a cat and ran towards Mura Runetotem's small campsite on the far side of the Sepulcher. Hyzanthlay casually followed. The two guards both saluted her as she walked post. Hyzanthlay could smell fresh blood, and it was not from Arugal's head.

Strellabelle was standing by the tomb, almost in the same place Hyzanthlay had met her before. She was tinkering with some vials and nodded towards Mura's camp, then muttered, "Steak?" in Gutterspeak.

Hyzanthlay was confused. It was not until she looked inside Mura's small wigwam did she understand the joke.

A young Tauren warrior was lying inside. She had been badly wounded, it seems by spellcasters. Mura said something about the road past Ambermill. Some of her fur had been scorched, and there was a bad wound by her breastplate. She was unconscious, but muttering in a troubled way in the tongue of her people.

Rik was speaking gently to her and casting a few spells. Earthroot pushed past Hyzanthlay and stared for a moment before falling upon one knee and lowing softly, as if in pain.

"She is young, but strong," Mura said in Common. She spoke to comfort Earthroot but looked at Hyzanthlay.

"Tiponi will live and fight again. You trained her well in Mulgore, Sister; she wounded a few and even killed two. A human with her spear, and a gnome that she crushed; we found her body close to where she fell."

"Crushed? A gnome? Is that so?" Hyzanthlay smiled appreciatively. She looked past Rik's shoulder and saw that Tiponi was breathing a little easier. She fished around in her bag and brought out a handful of red and yellow vials.

"For strength and health, see that she gets them," Hyzanthlay dropped them in one of Earthroot's surprised open hands. Rik had finished his casting and smiled at the gift, which did not seem to shock him at all.

"I thank you, and so will Tiponi when she is well. She is on the mend," and he looked to Earthroot when he said this, who rose to her feet and took a deep breath. "If you will, Hyzanthlay, I suspect you and Strellabelle will be headed to Undercity to be commended. It seems that Eucalypto is waiting for Tiponi there; if you happen to see him," and Rik seemed to snicker at this a bit, "let him know she will be delayed, will you?"

Hyzanthlay nodded, not understanding what was so funny, then turned to meet a rather dour Strellabelle. Something here did not meet with her approval.

"The Dark Lady awaits," she said curtly, as Hyzanthlay waved goodbye to Rik. "And you will no longer be handing out your potions to Tauren like wildflowers to cattle. You and your profession belong to the Clan of the Fallen now."

"I'm not wearing your guild tabard yet," Hyzanthlay snarled back.


	70. Chapter 70

A strange procession marched before Tiponi's eyes. The vision was blurred slightly, the figures moved too slow and the strange ambient light were all evidence that she was dreaming. Her grandmother approached, wise and kind, and she smiled warmly. She saw her parents, her brother and sister and the rest of her clan. They all smiled at her and waved, beckoning her home. She began to run to them, in that slowed motion of the dream. Her weapons and armor disappeared and her mane flowed out long behind her. She reached out her arms to her loved ones to embrace them.

JOLT

She blinked. They had moved further away out of her reach. Puzzled she started for them again.

JOLT

She saw them wrenched away from her for a second time. This time the torture on their faces was evident. She was failing them. "No!" She cried and ran towards them as fast as she could. A gaping chasm erupted between them and she skidded to a stop, her hooves precariously close to the edge. Below a vision of horror awaited her. The fissure stretched down into the very depths of the earth, and from those depths arose fire and darkness in the shape of clawing hands. Dragging her eyes from the terror below she sought out her family across the rift. She cried in despair, "I have failed you!"

"No, " the voice of her father was as clear as though he stood by her ear, "You have failed yourself."

She woke up gasping for air, her heart beating wildly and sweat dripping from her fur. Slowly becoming aware of her surroundings Tiponi remembered where she was, in a bed in the Sepulcher. She glanced at the sheets she had become tangled in, noticing that she was naked and that her wounds had been healed. She tensed as she became aware of the other person in the room and got ready to spring for her knife.

"Are you so eager to fight again child?" the woman asked in Taurahe. Tiponi sighed and relaxed, she recognised that voice from her fever dreams, ahh yes, Mura.

She relaxed back onto the pallet. "I must thank you for rescuing me and tending to my wounds, I would be in the arms of the Earthmother by now if you had not." She said, bowing her head.

The woman laughed heartily, "You're quite welcome child, but it is not I alone who you must thank. Two of your friends turned up here not long ago, Rik and Earthroot. It was the druid who assisted me in healing your wounds, I must say he is quite talented."

Tiponi leapt up from the bed. "Rik!? He was here? He saw me, like this? He...he touched me?" She felt the blush warm her cheeks through her fur and cursed at herself. "Is he still here? I must get dressed, I can't be seen like this, I..."

Mura laughed, "Well it looks like you have enough strength to rise. Don't be too hard on yourself these next few days, you are lucky to be alive after the damage you suffered."

Tiponi nodded at the woman's words as she hastily dressed and put on her armor. She was still muttering and cursing to herself. What was he doing here? It didn't matter. She shouldn't let a male get the better of her, oh by the Earthmother had he seen her naked? She was an adult now, she had better act like it. Would he prefer her hair loose or braided...no!

Her erratic train of thought was cut short by Mura who coughed politely. "Oh, and child? I think you had best see to getting a new set of armor." She winked and walked out. Tiponi glanced down and saw the ruin of her poorly fitting armor and moaned. Maybe it would have been better if she were naked...


	71. Chapter 71

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Undercity was a practical name for a horrifying place. For any living creature it was a nightmare come true, a city teeming with the living dead and ruled by the Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner herself. Here the undead were free to surround themselves with anything their putrid and rotten hearts desired. This included everything in the undead index, from cockroach crates to exposed entrails.

Hyzanthlay arrived in Undercity via bat, and was immediately greeted by a page from the Dark Lady. She was relieved to find that Strellabelle had already delivered the report (along with the head), and that her presence in the Royal Quarter was not required immediately. However, Sylvanas herself had requested Hyzanthlay's presence at a later, as-yet-to-be undisclosed time.

Free in Undercity was the best commendation Hyzanthlay could have wished for. The absence of windows, natural light or clocks reflected how little fatigue or time mattered to the undead. Hyzanthlay freely walked along the candlelit corridors with her new demon, a svelt succubus. Heswena was more for show than anything else, smiling suggestively and dipping the ends of her fingers into her mouth as they strolled along. If the demon felt she wasn't getting enough attention she would crack her whip above her head and moan loudly.

Her business at the bank and auction house concluded, Hyzanthlay decided to relax by casting a fishing line into the moat of green goo that circled the four quarters of Undercity. And here Eucalypto found her.

"My sincerest congratulations, dear Lady!" Eucalypto greeted her with the usual formality. "Such a shame I wasn't there to see it myself!"

"You didn't miss much." Hyzanthlay muttered, peering at him from under the rim of her ratty fishing hat. Eucalypto's orbs flickered past her however, to the tattooed thigh of the succubus.

"Oh," he said, bowing low, "aren't you going to introduce me to your...friend?"

"My what?" Hyzanthlay blinked. It took a moment for her to understand that he was referring to Heswena, since introducing a demon to anyone was just plain silly. This would be like introducing someone to your cooking stove or your housecat. And it made Hyzanthlay intensely angry.

"And to just whom," and as her jagged, yellow teeth snapped on the last syllable, she waved her hand and the succubus faded away with a sad little moan, "are you referring to as my friend? And you, rogue, Rik told me you got...lost...somewhere?" And she snickered viciously.

"Ahem, well," the rogue smiled and raised a patchy eyebrow, "not all who wander are lost, as they say. Leather and steel is as good as gold these days, that is, if one can stand the smell of night elf."

"True enough. You have been commissioned? A Tauren warrior turned up at the Sepulcher. If there was any doubt she needed new armor before, I assure you, she certainly does now."

"Ah, Tiponi," Eucalypto said. "I warned her about the road from Tarren Mill. Take the zeppelin, I said! Would it be inappropriate to refer to Tauren females as 'bull-headed'?"

"No, just inaccurate. She will be detained; your common friend Rik asked me to pass on the message. Wailing Caverns, is it? Yes, I know the place, near the Crossroads. I find the Barrens disagreeable, but the fishing there is good."

"Ah, yes," Eucalypto smiled, "no doubt, you seek the deviate fish?"

"You know of it?"

"The Trolls are poor at keeping secrets. They also like to show off. But come, Hyzanthlay; there is a tavern in Brill and I would be honoured to buy you some spirits, and hear your tales of Shadowfang Keep and Arugal!"

"Ask Rik," Hyzanthlay reeled in a slimy old skull, and recast her line dismissively. "As I said, the mage was devoid of either power or will, and his defeat was hardly glorious. I have no more to say about it.

Do you not have any tales to tell, rogue?"

Eucalypto was quiet for a moment, but he was smiling gently.

"There are jungles to the far south; pirates, herbs, gems...and good hunting. And you will find no better fishing anywhere in Azeroth."

Hyzanthlay nodded, focusing on her fishing line. The rogue continued.

"The hunting is the best sport. And the best game...is Alliance."

Hyzanthlay reeled in her line, put away her fishing pole and rose from her crouched position.

"Lead the way to Brill, rogue."

"After you, My Lady."


	72. Chapter 72

"Wanna buy a cockroach?" the vendor said whilst thrusting the squirming insect into her face.

"Argh!" Tiponi screamed, repulsed by the multitude of segmented legs filling her vision. When she had recovered from her surprise she asked the Forsaken in puzzlement "What?"

"A cockroach? Do you want. To buy. A roach. Honestly missy I'm missing both of my ears but I still hear fine, thank the Dark Lady for that." He paused in his tirade to look up at her. His eyes shone brightly and limp strands of hair dangled from the dry skin stretched taut across his scalp. "I'll make you a very nice deal for you Tauren lady, very good. Only fifty pieces of silver and you can have your very own cockroach. Once in a lifetime offer. Good price."

Tiponi scratched her head in puzzlement. Finally she answered, "Why would I want a cockroach?"

The Forsaken put his entire body into a heavy sigh, as though he were speaking to a particularly dense individual. "I don't know, anything! Cook it, put a leash on it, step on it for all I care." He paused to change his tone. "I see you are a very smart lady, so for you I will make a special one-time deal ok? Just for today only, fifty silver and don't tell my supervisor, because if I weren't already dead, she'd KILL me! Eh? Eh?" He looked at her as if expecting some response. Tiponi was hesitant, this might have been some sort of Forsaken humour but she wasn't certain. "Kids today..." the man muttered, shaking his head.

"Wait, did you say FIFTY silver pieces?" Tiponi's thought processes finally seemed to catch up with her. "That's ridiculous! Do the Undercity guards know you're extorting foreigners like this? I should have a word with them, they'll see you flogged!" She punctuated the last sentence with a pointed finger as the man scrambled together his belonging and took off down the corridor. "Honestly," she muttered to herself, "Fifty silver... to think of the gold I could have made picking the weevils out of my bread..."

The Undercity was a dark dismal place. The colourful curtains hanging from the walls only seemed mocking in contrast. Liquids dripped down from the stonework and a foul stale smell was almost solid in the air. Strange pools of glowing green goo ran in channels through the city. Tiponi had been excited to visit the Forsaken capital, but now that she was here she didn't like it at all. The walls pressed in on her and the smell threatened to overwhelm her. She longed to get our in the open air again, but that could wait, she had things to take care of.

"Van Brunt's Smithy" the sign overhead displayed. It was a little alcove cut into the stone decorated with the same skull and bones designs throughout the city. The sounds of hammers' ringing on anvils were accompanied hissing of steam as hot metal was quenched in barrels of water. Heat from the forge began to make Tiponi sweat at a distance and it bathed the workshop in an orange glow.

"Oh yes, I could make you a fine suit of Orc armor," the Forsaken seemed to snicker. Tiponi was puzzled, this must just be another peculiar undead mannerism. "I believe I could even fit it to your, sizable bulk..." Tiponi frowned at that, surely that was an insult, "...for say twenty pieces of gold."

The insult was forgotten in a wave of shock and disbelief. "Twenty! GOLD!?" Tiponi cried, her voice rising in volume and pitch in incredulity. "You Forsaken must be mad! The prices here are ridiculous! I've never even seen that much money! Let alone be able to..."

"Enough!" The blacksmith cut in, "be gone with you then, and take your scraps with you.' He pushed the pile of Tiponi's ruined leather armor off the workbench and returned to his work.

Tiponi quietly picked up the pile of scraps. She bit her lip and tried to keep her dignity, but she surprisingly hurt by the man's words. "Psst," a voice whispered low, "Over here." A woman was beckoning to her from behind the blacksmith's shop. Glancing once back at the shop Tiponi trudged over to her. The Forsaken woman was wearing a fine form-fitting suit of mail armor. Despite her bony protrusions the armor fit her well.

"What then?" Tiponi asked curtly, "I am not in the mood for games."

The woman grinned with rotten green lips showing many missing teeth. "I could not help but overhear what you said to the Van Brunt smith," she started in a low husky voice, "Don't listen to that old fool, his brain was the first thing to rot!" Tiponi smiled, this kind of humour she could understand. "He may put on the biggest show here in Undercity, but he aint the only smith in town. I could make you a fine suit of armor, it will be lightweight and flexible but tough as plate and damn fine lookin to boot. Surely you got someone to impress dontcha sweetie?" She smiled that toothless grin again but Tiponi was busy. What would Rik think when he saw her in armor like that!

"Oh! I would be so grateful to you! But those prices, I don't have the kind of gold..."

"Hush now," the woman's smile was beginning to unnerve Tiponi, "a friend of mine has told me you know Eucalypto?"

"Oh! I was supposed to meet him!" Tiponi had had great difficulty finding a clock in this city. "How do you know..."

The woman cut her off "Not important! I will do this thing for you, as a favour for our...friend." She paused and Tiponi shrunk back from the woman as a fierce and eerie light had entered her eyes. That crooked smile was still fixed on her face, but it wasn't friendly. "But you will also do a favour for me yes?" Tiponi nodded hurriedly, she was more than a little worried now. The woman continued, "There be a troll, what they would call a Witchdoctor in Stranglethorn Vale. Mogh the Undying, you will bring me his HEART!" The forsaken had backed Tiponi into the wall against the blacksmith's shop. Despite being several hands taller, Tiponi felt as though she had to look up at the woman. Tiponi breathed deeply, how did she get into this situation? The woman backed down and seemed to regain normal composure. "You will do this small favour for me, yes?"

"I..." Tiponi swallowed, "But Stranglethorn is on the other side of the continent! I've never been..."

"There is a zeppelin outside of the city than can take you directly there. You will be going because I know Eucalypto is going," Tiponi opened her mouth, "Don't ask how," and closed it. "You will need provisions, best be getting ready." Tiponi didn't know what to say. She had only come for a suit of armor and now she was being sent across the world by a scary woman she didn't know. She was lost for words. The woman drew close and whispered into her ear "Oh, and let's keep this to ourselves shall we? It will be a surprise."

Tiponi looked down at the floor and shuffled her hooves. It would be best not to offend the maniac. "Thank-" the woman had vanished..."-you..." Tiponi glanced around. The denizens of Undercity were still going about their business. Tiponi groaned, she still had to find Eucalypto, and hope by the Earthmother that it went better than her attempt to buy armor.


	73. Chapter 73

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Undercity was too business-like to provide any meaningful repose, so undead looking to unwind found their way to Brill. Both Eucalypto and Hyzanthlay could still enjoy spirits and smoke, in spite of their undead state, along with some storytelling.

Over a foaming tankard, Hyzanthlay described the more entertaining points of the Keep. Mainly, the time that she had been knocked down the stairs and the battle with Fenrus. She said little to nothing of Arugal. She took to arranging her herbs on the tabletop and draining her tankard as Eucalypto told her about Wailing Caverns.

"It's the night elves, of course," Eucalypto explained, and Hyzanthlay nodded her head in mock surprise, gulping down her mead. He went on for a while about a druid named Naralex and his attempt to use the Emerald Dream to rejuvenate the Barrens. His dream had become a nightmare, and a mysterious taint had spread through the place.

"I was only there to skin dinosaurs, perhaps discover some nice gear that some unfortunate had dropped or some great beast had swallowed. And then this Tauren, Tiponi turns up.

I must thank you for the mageroyal by the way; not only is it a fine smoke, but you were correct when you said it was commonly used among the Tauren. I was resting by a newly skinned corpse, puffing away, and she practically landed on me.

I greeted her with the usual formality. Oh, snicker all you want, but she is still a proud lady none the less! And I am but a humble servant before such nobility, as you know. Of course my greeting surprised her. Such a shame that chivalry is so dead. She was also surprised that an undead would be smoking anything, let alone her grandmother's favorite. And what was an undead rogue doing so far from the Eastern Kingdoms? A young thing, but bright enough, and not the least bit repulsed by me. "

"I've put some things together for you." Hyzanthlay enjoyed how her skills in herbalism never failed to draw Eucalypto's interest. "The Liferoot is a little tricky to cure, so don't bother me about the wait."

"Of course, madam; as long as it's no trouble..."

The sound of raised voices interrupted their conversation. The heated discussion seemed to be drawing closer. It was in Orcish, and involved a number of undead voices and one familiar Tauren. Eucalypto paused to raise an eyebrow, then rose from his chair to limp quickly outside. Hyzanthlay waved at the barmaid to refill her mug and continued puttering with her plants.

"We have been directed to take you to the zeppelin," the Deathguard said to the young Tauren warrior. "Until it arrives, you will stay where we can see you; or until Eucalypto appears and gives us an explanation for you."

"There is no need for all this fuss!" She replied tersely. "I was perfectly within my rights when I told the cockroach vendor..."

"Jeremiah Payson has been selling cockroaches underneath the Undercity bank since the day the Dark Lady set foot in the Royal Quarter. That is well before any Tauren muddied our doorstep with their hoofprints!"

"Be lucky we agreed to escort you out of town," the other Deathguard sneered. "Shall we carve you up instead, and sell the cuts to Stormwind for a few gold?"

Their cruel laughter was cut short. A figure had emerged from the inn nearby and reached them in a split second. The Deathguards didn't even see him until he appeared before their eyes, hand raised.

"Enough, cur!" Eucalypto snarled and gave the nearest Deathguard a sound slap. "What insolence! Is this how we treat guests?"

"Your 'guest' was harassing Jeremiah," the Deathguard sounded defiant but he was cowering. The other was pouting and rubbing his sore face. "Accusing him of extorting foreigners..."

"And good for her, because he does, as we all do." Eucalypto spoke firmly and quietly. "Gold means little to us, those trapped in a the neverending cycle of undeath. Now, tell me gentlemen, can a mortal eat a cockroach?"

This seemed to confuse to Deathguards, who wandered back the way that they had come muttering angrily. Eucalytpo turned to the Tauren warrior.

-"Greetings, Tiponi," and he bowed. "Forgive me; Undercity is not the most hospitable place."

"Well, I should say not!" Tiponi shook her mane defiantly. "Can you imagine? So much silver to buy a bug for a pet?"

"A travesty indeed...perhaps we should ask Richard what he thinks?"

Tiponi opened her mouth to say, Who? But the word never came out. Eucalypto tilted his head to one side, and a huge dark brown cockroach poked it's head out from under his collar. It waved it's feelers in Tiponi's direction rather resentfully.

"This is Richard," Eucalypto grinned wickedly and lifted the little creature off his shoulder and slipped it into his pocket, "Jer's price was forty silver, and since I picked his pocket for fifty I'd say that's a fair price."

Tiponi could not help but laugh quietly.

"Would you care to join Hyzanthlay and I for a drink while we wait for the zeppelin to Stranglethorn Vale?"

"Indeed, Eucalypto," Tiponi nodded with relief and saluted her companion before following him inside the inn.

The patrons took little notice of the foreigner who had to duck her head down a bit to keep her horns clear of the beams in the ceiling. Eucalypto's companion was an undead female, and before her on the table were small piles of herbs and an empty tankard, still frosty from the now absent contents.

"May I present my...uhm...colleague, Hyzanthlay." Eucalypto then raised his voice so the whole tavern could hear him,

"She is the accomplished warlock that recently stormed Shadowfang Keep and slew Arugal for the Horde!"

The few patrons roared with approval, and the barmaid provided Hyzanthlay with a brimming tankard on the house. If there had been any blood left in the warlock's body, it would have been rushing to her cheeks.

"Pleased to meet you," Tiponi carefully took her seat, as the bench was rather small for her. One undead warrior nodded in her direction, clearly impressed by her size and apparent strength.

"We did meet, before," Hyzanthlay's command of Orcish was not as accomplished as Eucalypto's and Tiponi had to listen carefully. "You were badly wounded, and Mura was tending to you in the Sepulcher. I do not expect you to remember."

"I do remember the potions, and my thanks for that. I see you are also a herbalist." Tiponi took note of the various herbs on the table, and was distracted by what looked like a bit of Swiftthistle.

"This is difficult to find," she said, "and very valuable among my people. Do you know its use?"

The warlock looked at her with a raised eyebrow and shook her head. Tiponi opened her mouth to continue but was interrupted by the low, long horn that was mounted on the zeppelin tower just outside. A scratchy goblin voice yelled,

"The zeppelin to Strangetgorn Vale has arrived! All aboooard for Stranglethorn! Vale!"

"We will have much to talk about during the trip, Tiponi," Hyzanthlay quickly gathered up the herbs; some she had already rolled into small cigarettes and she handed a few of these to Eucalytpo as he tossed a few gold onto the table.

"I'll see to this," Eucalypto said, as the gold clinked merrily against the worn wood; "for today, I travel to the tropics with two lovely ladies, and could very well be the luckiest rogue in the whole of Azeroth."


	74. Chapter 74

Tiponi closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The sun warmed her face and a cool breeze gently ruffled her mane. She sighed in absolute contentment. This was exactly the kind of thing she had imagined during her childhood daydreams. Here she was, exotic travelling companions by her side, on an airship sailing across the sky to an exciting unexplored wilderness. She could hardly contain her excitement...at first. The airship operator had failed to mention exactly how long it took to sail across the entire continent and as the days passed her excitement waned into sheer boredom.

At first she had been mesmerised by the miniature landscape passing by below her, but that had been quickly obscured by the clouds as the zeppelin soared higher. It had been an amazing sight, seeing the white clouds stretched out below like a fluffy blanket. She almost felt like she could reach out and grab it. But days and days of the same sight had dampened her enthusiasm, and now she longed to see something other than those boring hills of white.

She had explored the airship from top to bottom, and had even been chased out of the engineering room by angry goblins. She was curious about the little people, usually they were fascinating and full of fun stories. These goblins however were very much fixated on their work. Her undead companions were little better conversationalists. They seemed to tire quickly of her questions. And that warlock... that's what Eucalypto called her. A demon summoner. Tiponi frowned, she had respect for all creatures of Azeroth. Living or dead, animal or elemental, all were part of the Earthmother. She had created them, and when they finally drew their last breath they would return to her or watch on from the halls of her ancestors. But not demons. Demons were apart from the Earthmother. They were part of the Burning Legion, corrupt evil creatures whose only purpose in existence was to destroy and conquer the works of the Earthmother. Tiponi growled in contempt. Yet despite standing in opposition to everything she valued, a demon stood on the opposite side of the deck. The beast was hideous. It stood in a revolting parody of a female, with accentuated breasts and thighs. But its demonic attributes were easily recognisable, from the wicked curved horns on its head to its sharp barbed tail. It veritably reeked of wrongness, and yet Tiponi had to suffer its existence. As if to laugh at Tiponi's innermost thoughts the demon let out a squeal and began to lash itself with its whip. Tiponi turned away in disgust. She had offended the warlock with her first reaction. They had been speaking of the Undercity...

"How was I supposed to know that?" she had asked, "It seemed ridiculous, who would pay that much for an insect?" She glanced over at Eucalypto and cleared her throat, "Uh, that is to say...and the armor! They can't really believe people walk around with that much gold on them. Oh Eucalypto that reminds me, I met this really crazy lady who HSSSH!" Tiponi had hissed with a sharp intake of breath. "What is that abomination!?" An intangible mass of blobby blue stood beside Hyzanthlay. Its only distinguishing features were its glowing eyes devoid of emotion and metallic bracers on its arm-like appendages. She had then tried to explain the significance of the Earthmother to the undead and why demons were by their nature, evil undesirable creatures that should be destroyed on sight. It had not gone over very well.

Now she sat on one end of the air ship while the warlock remained on the other. She hadn't meant to offend her...Forsaken were so hard to understand! She sighed, at least she was leaving the undead lands behind her. Perhaps the people of Stranglethorn would be more amenable. At least something good had come of this trip. She had made fast friends with a troll woman who acted as one of the ships guards.

Du'una cackled wildly at Tiponi's latest question. "Well, because dey be our enemies. Ya know? Da different tribes be all at war. Da Skullsplitters hate the Darkspears, ya know? Cos of their Horde allies. Ha! They be scared of dat ya know? Dey hate us for it, but den dey always be hating us anyway! Haha!" The troll snorted wildly. Tiponi sat bemused by her extravagant hand gestures as she spoke. "Dis troll you did speak of, I know of him. He be a powerful witchdoctor, strong mojo. You best be careful, no?" She dropped a small ball crafted from tree rubber and, while it bounced, attempted to scoop up a handful of troll knucklebones. Tiponi had been disgusted at first, until the troll explained they had been a gift from her father. She had laughed loudly at that for some reason...It was a game Tiponi had come to enjoy, it made a fine distraction from the monotonous clouds and that thing with the undead. But Tiponi struggled as well, although she was accurate and her reflexes deft, her fingers were simply too large and clumsy to pick up as many tiny bones as Du'una could. Once she had nearly lost the rubber ball over the side, but the experienced troll had tied a small length of cord to the ball to prevent such an occurrence.

Tiponi laughed and clapped as the troll fumbled. She might be able to win this time! She concentrated, sticking her lolling tongue out the side of her mouth as she did so. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."


	75. Chapter 75

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Eucalypto was actually looking forward to an entertaining trip; he expected some tension between his two companions and wasn't disappointed.

The journey would take several days and the zeppelin wasn't very big. After a slight tiff over a demon, Hyzanthlay and Tiponi avoided each other. The warlock retreated to the lower level to smoke from the balcony, and it was not long until Eucalypto joined her.

Tiponi continued her game of knucklebones until it grew dark, drawn by Du'una and her tales of trolls. She decided Hyzanthlay must have cooled down some and decided to rejoin them. The undead were relaxing on a small balcony that extended from the lower level. Some sort of discussion about politics. The way that Hyzanthlay was ranting, one could tell that she'd had a few. The succubus perched nearby, purring and fussing over her nails. The sun had set over the Great Sea to the west.

"..any doubt about them, just look at the human misery piled against the Greymane Wall. How any of them even survive the night is beyond me!"

"Our family didn't know the Silverlaines very well," Eucalypto watched the landscape of the Eastern Kingdoms slip beneath them. He was sitting on the edge, letting his feet dangle over the railing. A line of smoke trailed from the cigarette dangling from his mouth and wafted high over Menethil Harbor. "As if the gate will ever open. Is there really so many there still?"

"If you don't believe me, ask Phannuz," Hyzanthlay raised her voice snapped her fingers. The succubus moaned sadly and faded away. In her place a voidwalker appeared. Eucalypto laughed. Tiponi did not understand the joke.

"As you command," it said in a deep monotone, and Hyzanthlay could not help how her demon's presence agitated the young warrior. She had called it an "abomination" earlier, and Hyzanthlay had been tempted to remind her that those were the Undercity guards. This thing was actually called a voidwalker.

"Tell us, Voidwalker," she sneered, "you were there; what did you think of Silverpine Forest?"

The voidwalker did not have a mouth, but a metallic voice that seemed to come from behind it's beady black eyes said,

"I...don't like this place."

The two undead collpased into peals of inebriated laughter. Tiponi frowned.

"I've got one, I've got one," Eucalypto leaned back, and as he spoke smoke seeped out of the numerous holes in his head, "Tell me Phannuz, what is your opinion of the delicious Deviate Fish?"

The voidwalker answered without hesitation, "Cannot...resist."

They collapsed in laughter again, and Hyzanthlay dismissed her minion with a wave. He muttered, "I go." And vanished.

Tiponi shook her head and said, "I really don't understand your humour at all. It's like paying for a bug. Is that a joke?"

"Are you really so bothered by bugs and demons?" Hyzanthlay said. "When Jeremiah sets up a shop in Thunder Bluff, then you can cry about it. And Azeroth is filled with demons. Better get used to it. Euc?"

He didn't turn around but simply handed her his lit cigarette, which Hyzanthlay used to fire up the unlit cigarette in her mouth. She placed it back between his fingers and took a long draw from her own. It had to be long, as she was more short of breath these days. As she did Tiponi spoke;

"As I said, the Earthmother created all life on Azeroth, and to her and the ancestors they will return. But not demons. Demons are apart from the Earthmother."

"Tiponi," Hyzanthlay stared at her, "has it occurred to your Earthmother that Eucalypto and I would rather be pushing up some nice daisies somewhere?"

"I always wanted to be cremated and used for gardening, actually," Eucalypto's wide grin was lit up by his cigarette.

"Ah well, to each his own," Hyzanthlay said. "At least, that's what I kept telling myself in Thunder Bluff."

Tiponi looked at her in surprise. "You...you've been to Thunder Bluff?"

"Indeed I have, and I must say I was impressed by your people and the city they built on the mesas. But as for my journey, when I was but a lockling," Hyzanthlay began, and Eucalypto laughed and coughed, "I knew better than to have my demon with me then. At least I knew better than to draw attention to myself in your city. Didn't seem to make a difference to that warrior outside the master's tent. Someone you know, no doubt. No, no, she would never have told me her name. Introduce herself? Not likely!"

Hyanthlay let out a loud, drunken burst of laughter before continuing. This startled Tiponi but she didn't show it.

"Did they tell you to go wait in a cave in Undercity? Did they tell you to go crawl underground where they wouldn't have to look at you? Perhaps you should visit the Pools of Vision and get a good look at the freaks!"

At this last word, Hyzanthlay tottered to her feet and began to walk towards the stairs leading to the upper deck, muttering to herself.

"Protection from evil?" She snickered, as she stumbled out the stairs and let out a belch; "I AM evil!"

Eucalypto chuckled fondly. Tiponi stared after her swaying form as it disappeared up the stairs.

"I offended her," Tiponi said sadly.

"Oh, I doubt that," Eucalypto chuckled. "It is a difficult feat to offend an undead warlock. Hyzanthlay's demons won't be much of a bother to you. The beasts she calls from the nether are but mere trinkets to her eyes; her specialty is not Demonology."

"What is it?" Tiponi was almost afraid to ask.

"Destruction," Eucalypto replied, smiling proudly into the starry sky.


	76. Chapter 76

Tiponi sat in awe. A mantle of stars filled the night sky and Mu'sha shone brightly overhead. Tiponi felt as though the Earthmother herself was watching down on her at that moment. Whatever troubles she had had in the past, whatever doubts she felt, all were erased when she remembered that the Earthmother was looking out for her. She turned to the Forsaken rogue sitting next to her.

"It's a funny thing really," she mused, feeling somewhat philosophical, "the more I try to understand your people, the less I think I do." She looked over at him from the corner of her eye, Eucalypto had his back pressed against the side of the airship and appeared to be completely relaxed. His glowing eyes were half-closed in a sleepy way. She might not understand the Forsaken, but she knew enough not to be fooled. The rogue was capable of moving faster than thought itself, he might appear relaxed but that did not mean his guard was down. He nodded vaguely in acknowledgement of her words. "I knew you would be different from the Shu'halo. That's what drew me to you." She laughed, "The Elders said I was rash, inexperienced and too curious for my own good. Young, they said, too young as if that made any difference." She was rambling a little, she knew it, but the Forsaken seemed to be a very good listener. "There was just so much happening out there! In the big wide world." She raised her arms wide in demonstration, "I heard stories of our new allies and the places they had been. How could they expect me to be content with things the way they were after that? Every day, hunting, cooking, guarding the village, it was so dull! Argh! You would not imagine. I would dream of running away from it all, and adventuring, fighting for the Horde." She grinned, "It's not quite what I expected... I keep making a fool of myself it seems. You sure I didn't offend Hyzanthlay?"

The rogue sat up slowly, plucking the lit cigarette from his lips. "Your pardon my lady, but another thing thou shouldst learn about my people, is that we doth have thicker skin that it wouldst seem."

Tiponi nodded. "I visited Thunder Bluff on a few occasions, my family's village was a few days travel from the capitol and father occasionally took me on his trading trips. I'd heard of this cave she mentioned, is it true, what she said?" The rogue nodded silently, and Tiponi sighed heavily. "I don't understand it at all. My people have named you as allies, but rather than embrace you and your differences they are fearful and hide you away out of mistrust."

Eucalypto sat upright quickly, startling Tiponi with his agility, "But my lady," he began, "Art thou not likewise behaving so? By condemning the warlock's practise out of fear and suspicion, you have segregated yourself from her."

Tiponi blinked, her mouth falling open. "You are wise, Eucalypto." She bowed her head, "I understand completely." She smiled, she was starting to understand. "My people called me rash for embracing what is new, but I insist we can maintain the old ways whilst embracing change. To do otherwise makes me a hypocrite!" She grabbed at the rogue's hand in a heavy handshake, "Thankyou Eucalypto! You are a true friend."


	77. Chapter 77

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay made it to the top step, and swayed for a moment with the movement of the airship. She stood on the landing for a moment, hiccupped, then sighed and moved towards the railing where a few hammocks were set up. She slowly eased down on one, yawned and stretched, then turned her orbs towards the open portal next to her. The moon seemed to follow them, a wide, unblinking eye hovering over a sleeping sea.

The two troll watchers had been chatting rather loudly until she appeared; now they lowered their voices. Du'una nodded towards her, then gave Umjin a suggestive shove. The troll reluctantly took a few steps towards the warlock, who slowly turned and stared defiantly back at him.

"You...got the good stuff, the purple herb," he said, his head lowered, smiling. "You leave some for us watchers, yes?"

Hyzanthlay grinned viciously. Leave it to a troll to smell the Kingsblood, and boldly ask for some sight unseen. It was a handy herb for alchemy and a classic troll favorite. Not only for smoking but also for tea and cooking; the herbalist in Orgrimmar had gotten a little excited talking about it.

"Indeed, friend," Hyzanthlay wasn't the least bit surprised. "But it was not easy to find, and it's not cheap. My supply is limited but for the right amount I'm sure..."

"We trade, and not for gold," Umjin said carefully. "You want some information? That be valuable."

"Go on," Hyzanthlay nodded slowly and let her eyelids droop, hoping he would loosen his tongue if she seemed less likely to jump up and melt his face.

"Your friend, the rogue. He be headin' north?"

"Why do you think that?"

"It be Alliance territory. Old orchards, farms, small towns...fun for an undead rogue and warlock. And there be other things too. You be the warlock that killed Arugal. We hear of you."

Hyzanthlay turned and glared at Umjin. She was already testy about the delay in attacking the monastery and there was nothing that the Scarlet Crusade wanted in Stranglethorn Vale.

"You know a place called Duskwood? There be undead there. A grove filled with dragons. And a city called Darkshire, that has many...umm..."

He seemed to have forgotten the word in Orcish, and turned to Du'una with a helpless gesture.

"Refugees," she said. "From the north, from the war."

Hyzanthlay sat up and turned to look at both of the Trolls. Her round orbs were now shining brightly and she gave no further heed to the Troll's discomfort.

"Before I was a Watcher," Umjin nodded and continued, "I would cross the bridge and brave the undead to sell the Kingsblood to humans. There be one good customer, he know them all. From Andorhol. He was there... that day. And they say he know the Scarlet Crusade, too."

"They say you don't know, but that you have a mark." Du'una touched her breast, close to her heart. "Maybe you be there that day the Scourge came."

"I understand," Hyzanthlay said softly. "Very well Troll, your price is fair. Darkshire, was it? And did this...human...have a name?"

"Sure, but he never tell me," Umjin chuckled. "Nah, he be too smart for that. But he easy to find. He has a dog, about so big." The Troll lowered his hand to knee-height. "This dog can sniff undead. She be famous for it. But you be clever, you can fool a dog. He have a scar too, on his face."

Umjin drew his index finger down the side of his face, from his forehead, past his eye, to his chin.

"My thanks, Troll," Hyzanthlay reached into her bag and pulled out a generous amount of the pungent plant. "Now leave me, and don't speak to me again."

Her orbs were flickering with a threatening light. Du'una hurried back to her post and Umjin backed away a few cautious steps before doing the same.


	78. Chapter 78

Tiponi pointed ahead in the distance and clapped her hands together in joy. "Land Ho!" the goblin Captain had shouted and she had rushed to the bow of the ship to lean out over the railing. Through the clouds they descended revealing a rich green tropical rainforest below them with a sandy shoreline and ocean to the west. Tiponi's eyes darted quickly as she tried to take in the sights as the soared quickly overhead. They passed ancient troll ruins, some with small figures crawling among them and some reclaimed by the wilderness. There were lakes and rivers in Stranglethorn that ran to the coastline and the water shimmered brightly in the sunlight. She looked forward to taking a dip in that crystal clear water. Finally she saw a settlement in the distance. Grom'gol was a simple camp with the basic necessities to support the horde's foothold in the jungle. Its tall tree log wall surrounded the perimeter and a large building reared out of the camp- the dock for the airship. They landed smoothly (having to only circle the dock thrice due to miscalculations was smooth according to the goblins), and before long she planted her hooves on solid land again. It felt very strange, almost too still now that she was used to the swaying motion of the airship, but it certainly felt safer to be on the ground again. Tiponi gave thanks to the Earthmother for her safe voyage.

As it turned out she was not to be grounded for long. The Forsaken had gathered their belongings and made preparations to head north into the human lands of the Alliance. Tiponi couldn't understand their reasons for wanting to go, and they hadn't exactly been vocal on the subject either. If the Alliance attacked a horde outpost or its people she would defend them with her very own life if need be, but Hyzanthlay and Eucalypto were planning to venture forth into the Alliance lands. She heard mention of "refugees" and "hunting" and decided to stop listening. If she was going to be more accepting of her allies' practises she had better start now. And so she farewelled the undead, wishing them well on their journey north and vowing to meet up with them soon. The interaction they had shared on the airship had been somewhat tense, and she relished the thought of getting closer to her new friends under more positive circumstances.

Grom'gol might be the horde's foothold in Stranglethorn Vale, but Booty Bay was the place to be- so the guards told her. The goblins maintained a trading port that was neutral in affiliation to both the Horde and the Alliance on the southern end of the peninsula. They traded to both sides with equanimity, and drove prices through the roof, as was their way. Pirates roamed the South Seas and were a common sight in the port town. She would be rubbing shoulders with wicked pirates and vicious Alliance, meanwhile the goblins decked out the town in guardsmen to keep the peace. It sounded so exciting! Tiponi did not hesitate in mounting a wind rider for the journey south. The beast's erratic flapping motions were harder on her constitution than the airship had been, but the flier made good time and it was not long before she saw the twinkling lights of the port town below. She shouldered her pack and ventured forth to explore the town.

It seemed rickety and ramshackle at first. Booty Bay was built up around planks of wood and ramps on stilts. Perched upon these wooden platforms were buildings of all shape and size, on top of each other and lying against one another, such that it looked like the entire thing might collapse into the bay at any moment. She tested the platforms with her hoof first, it seemed stable enough. Merchants beyond compare, the goblins had stores for nearly everything imaginable, from livestock to weapons, forged documents to moonshine. Anything could be found for a price in Booty Bay. The bustle was incredible. Compared to the wide open plains of Mulgore, or even the largely under-populated Undercity, this place was cramped! People of all races and walks of life crowded in around her. A human pirate under a long brimmed hat brushed shoulders with a nobly dressed Night Elf in silks. She danced around trying to avoid them all as they crowded around her on the planking, going this way and that. At one point she nearly fell over the side into the water below as she tried to avoid the people. She snapped and in frustration roared "MOVE IT!" and the crowd parted smoothly ahead of her. "Ah," she blushed. It was sometimes easy to forget the way she towered over so many of the other races, she was after all accustomed to being considered short back home. "Thank you, pardon me, excuse me." She continued her way onward, avoiding eye contact with the goblin guards as they scrutinized her, hefting their heavy maces. Finally she made it off the boardwalk and found herself before a tavern. "The Salty Sailor Inn" the hanging sign read, and Tiponi grinned, this looked promising.

Sure enough the tavern was bustling with activity. Seemingly built around half of a boat lodged into the mass of buildings, the Salty Sailor had patrons filling three levels of its hold. It was louder in here compared to even the bustle outside. Men and women were shouting at each other and laughing in mirth. A pair of gnomes played a fiddle and a flute while a scantily clad dwarven female danced for the coin of onlookers. As she entered the establishment she witnessed no less than three brawls break out, the tension between different factions hitting the tipping point over spilled ale or wenches and she watched as the goblin bouncers dragged off the offenders swiftly. It was then that she spied a familiar face among the patrons waving at her from across the room.

"Du'una!" She called as she made her way over to the table, "What are you doing here?"The troll motioned for her to sit down, although all nearby seats were taken. Tiponi looked around uncomfortably but the troll eased her hesitation by grabbing a young orc soldier by the front of his jerkin and smiling menacingly into his face. The orc hesitated only a moment before scrambling out of his seat, electing to find another table.

Du'una sat back down and smiled with much more friendliness towards Tiponi as she took her seat. "Dere do be dis ting called 'shore leave, ya know? Da goblins dey be fair traders, dey would not have many guards for der airships if dey forced us to live on dem always. I be having da rest of da week to enjoy myself."

Tiponi was happy to see her, a friendly face was always a welcome sight. The round wooden table was already liberally covered in empty mugs and the troll passed a few coppers to the dwarven wench for another round. "Would you like to play another game of bones?" Tiponi asked hopefully, "I did enjoy having fun with you before."

The troll cackled in that wild and familiar way of hers and Tiponi smiled in appreciation. "No no girl! Dat be a children's game to pass da lonely hours. Dere no need to be lonely in Booty Bay." Tiponi lowered her ears in disappointment. "I be playin an adults game now."

Tiponi pouted, "I am an adult." She wished it didn't sound so childish to her own ears and tried to defend herself. "I'm here all by myself, do you see a minder watching me? No." She crossed her arms in front of her and snorted.

"Ha! Easy dere now," the troll said, "I be unused to your kind yet. You wish to play da game?" Tiponi nodded enthusiastically, and the troll leaned forward and grinned. "It be a drinking game..."


	79. Chapter 79

The world was breaking. Tiponi sat up and everything around her moved unnaturally, spinning her head. She retched, but it seemed she had nothing left to sick up. "Wha...?"

The sound of a cackling troll drove nails into her ears. She groaned and covered them with her hands but through bleary eyes she could make out the form of Du'una. What had happened, where was she? "I did be tinking dat a Tauren could hold dere liquor more, ya know?" the troll grinned, "Ya do remember last night, no?"

Tiponi groaned, she recalled bits and pieces but as yet couldn't make sense of them. "Not...really." she answered, propping herself against the bed. Bed? Where was she? Looking around she appeared to be in a small cabin with a still-made bed and a glowing lantern set on a cabinet.

"Ya did drink too much." The troll continued, she pulled out a dirty knife from her belt and began to pick under her nails with it. "At one point ya did try to dance upon a tabletop. It broke and a lot of da Blackwater Raiders did lose der ale. Nearly caused a riot, ya know? Ha!" Tiponi sat dumb-founded, she hadn't really done any of that had she? "Dey was gonna toss ya out, hand ya over to da Steamweedle authority. Dat would have been bad, so I covered your losses." She learned in close, her face a mask of seriousness now, "It be a big loss."

"Oh! I'm so sorry Du'una. Thank you." She tried to recall more of what happened but her mind was as blank as if she has drank a whole mug laced with Kingsblood. "I don't know how to repay you, I have little coin but I will settle my debt to you, this I vow."

"Dere be one ting ya can offer dat ya can afford." Tiponi looked up at the troll cautiously. "Dat Witchdoctor you be speakin of on da airship. I tell ya he has strong mojo, ya know?" Tiponi nodded, uncertain as to the troll's intent. "I be comin wit ya when ya be hunting dis troll. You be taking his heart, I will have his mojo. Deal?" the troll asked, spitting liberally on her hand as she extended it to Tiponi.

Tiponi didn't even need to consider the offer. "Deal." She replied, repeating the gesture and shaking the troll's hand. As the troll left her alone, cackling wildly as she left the room, Tiponi sat on the floor for a moment. She could not help but think she had just been saved from a terrible circumstance. She was so grateful to the troll for her aid.


	80. Chapter 80

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Gracie was everyone's favourite dog. She had four white feet, a brindle coat, and a dark, tapered face crowned by a very expressive pair of big brown eyes. Not only was she adorable, obedient and charming, but she was also quiet. The only thing that could rouse her was the sickly scent of the undead, and the people of Darkshire were grateful for such a creature. Many believed the murder of the town's nobles in nearby Karazhan had put a curse on them. Others said the taint had first begun when the town had been razed to the ground during the First War.

Her owner enjoyed his anonymity and appreciated that Gracie got most of the attention. Nobody knew him that well. He did not have a home in the town but enjoyed a semi-permanent room at the inn. It was well known that he would go wandering in Duskwood for days, hunting undead on behalf of the Night Watch. Gracie looked forward to their long treks and the adventures they had culling the mindless undead from the orchards and farmyards.

The river that snaked along the northern border was quiet and gloomy, but Gracie could smell the clear air of humans and wildlife that roamed freely on the opposite shore. Stormwind was not far away. The west wind carried the smell of tilled earth and grain, sometimes they would go as far as Sentinel Hill and catch the scent of the ocean. Sometimes they walked south, where the scent of thick desert ferns and trolls would waft across an old covered bridge. Her master would commonly meet with a Troll or Tauren to buy herbs and supplies. Gracie had no quarrel with these creatures and did not raise her voice to them. All strangers were put at ease by the friendly animal's innocent demeanour, and they spoke freely of their travels and the news that they heard. Information was also valuable. Althea seemed to prefer it when they delivered any news personally to her in Darkshire, but Gracie enjoyed the occasional trip to Stormwind.

To the east, they did not go. The road wound from Darkshire to a crumbled tower known as Beggar's Haunt, and beyond that the haunted winds of Deadwind Pass. Gracie could smell the ogres, vultures, and the taint of Karazhan.

Beggar's Haunt had once been more than a lonely ruin. Only the tower was mostly intact, but part of a high garden wall and a few tombs were still visible above the tall grasses. A cemetery for nobles and princes, old and unkempt since the days of the first war. Being careful not to rouse the tower's current inhabitants, sometimes Gracie would follow her Master here, where he would take some time to repose next to a small pond, once tended and filled with koi fish, now grown wild.

They were here one day when Gracie wandered away from her Master. He was not a drinking man, but when he came here, he would take a flask out of his side pocket. It was always wrapped in a worn purple handkerchief. He never wept, but the way he clutched the cloth in one hand, and drank in laboured sips with the other, he seemed to be in pain. Gracie was always a bit worried for him at this point, but then he would fall into a peaceful sleep. She usually stayed by him, since those in the tower were different and more dangerous than the mindless undead in most of Duskwood.

Today, it was a curious new scent drew her away from his side, against all of her usual instincts, towards the dreaded tower.


	81. Chapter 81

Tiponi slapped a biting insect from her arm and hissed in frustration. The horrible bugs flew in swarms that she seemed to walk into constantly- with her mouth open. She spat into the green undergrowth as she tasted another one. The foul things were drawn to her body heat and scent. They followed her and sought her flesh, landing on her unprotected fur and sucking out her blood like a monstrous flying flea. There were too many to kill, too many to fend off and they flew too quickly. She began to tire of chasing them until the red lumps began to appear on her body. They itched and leaked a clear fluid. When she scratched at them they burned. She howled in frustration, her eyes watering, and the troll came to her rescue.

"Be holdin still a moment." She ordered as she hacked off a thick leaf of a strange plant Tiponi did not recognise. She unrolled a bandage across her lap and began to squeeze a thick white substance out of the leaf onto the linen. As she began wrapping the bandages around Tiponi's bite wounds the troll began to explain, much to her dismay. "I hear dat da bloodwasps be only found in Stranglethorn. They be nasty beasts dat drink da blood of creatures and den lay der eggs in da wounds."

"You mean?" Tiponi asked in horror, but Du'una continued her work without looking up.

"Dey grew quickly in da heat, ya know? And when dey be hatching dey eat da flesh around da injury. Very nasty. Ha!" Tiponi began to feel very ill. "Dis salve will choke dem, dey will die witout hatching... Dere, all better." The troll arose with a satisfied look on her face.

Tiponi felt as though she was swaying a little. "Do you mean to say," she swallowed convulsively, "that I have those horrible insects' dead eggs inside my arm!?"

Du'una smirked, "Ya.", and cackled as Tiponi gagged. "But do not be worryin. Wit dat salve dey not be hurtin ya."

Tiponi tried to control herself. She thought of Mulgore and her family and certainly not of those horrible things invading her body. "I want," she said trying to steady her voice, "these things out of me. Help me cut them out now. I don't care if they're dead now I want them gone!" She even considered smearing herself in the foul-smelling substance Du'una coated herself in to ward the insects away. She had hardly considered that trolls would bottle their own sweat until this point but even that rank idea was better than nothing.

Du'una tilted her head a little. "Dey be too small to cut out. Ya still be wishin to fight da Witchdoctor, no? Ya not be doin dat wit your arms cut to shreds, ha!" she began to walk off into the jungle, laughing to herself.

Grudgingly Tiponi followed her, she could not afford to be separated. Already the troll had proven her worth ten times over in this strange hostile environment. It turned out that the cool shimmering water she had so looked forward to bathing in was in fact full of man-eating fish! Tiponi had thought the troll was joking until she had tossed a bone into the water. Within seconds the still water became thrashing foam and when it was finally still enough to see through again the bone had been picked clean. She shuddered at the thought. They had hunted for their supper last night, the wild cats of the jungle were a hearty meal if you could find them. The beasts were much stealthier than the flatland cougars of her homelands. She had at one point spotted a much easier to track fare, a brightly coloured lizard with an orange and blue scaled hide. She had hefted her spear to throw but the troll had stopped her, warning that the reptile was so poisonous that not only could it not be eaten but its very blood would pit and mar her weapon into uselessness. Now she kept behind her guide, taking her advice in an instant. Had she ever thought this viscous, hostile environment would be more exciting than the ruins of old Lordaeron? Well it was at that, her cousin would have called it a cruel irony...

The troll wove her way through the forest as if she were a part of it. She hid in the dense green undergrowth when she sensed a beast nearby, led the way clear of inhabited tribal ruins and took her direction from what little of the sun made it through the thick canopy. Tiponi sweated in the heat. Her horribly ill-fitting ruined leather armor chafed at her but she was grateful in a way. It would have been even worse if her armor were metal. The troll didn't seem to wear armor at all. A lot of her skin was bared around a few straps of leather binding her limbs and torso. Dangling from these straps were all manner of strange objects and trinkets. Du'una had explained that they were enchanted charms and fetishes to "keep da voodoo away". Tiponi hoped that they worked, for Du'una's sake. Somehow despite the dangling objects the troll moved silently through the undergrowth. She was far stealthier than Tiponi. It was her hooves, she considered dejectedly, they couldn't help but echo their impact noises giving her away.

They were nearing the ruins of Zul'mamwe where the Skullsplitter tribe dwelled. Tiponi shadowed her troll companion as they crept through the thick vegetation, circling the ruins and making their way around the hilltop in the centre of the ruins. Although the ancient city was decrepit it was far from abandoned. Skullsplitter trolls guarded the area with trained jungle panthers beside them. Robed shamans and mystics paid devotion to their trollish deities in the broken temples with armoured guards at the entrances. Tiponi could not help but notice the similarities between her new friend Du'una and these people. It was more the similarity between people of the same race, she could see it now. The fetishes, the armor style, and most especially her darkly dyed braided hair, marked Du'una as a Skullsplitter troll. Tiponi said nothing, now was certainly not the time.

They scampered quietly up the side of the hill, Tiponi's hooves finding poor purchase on the rocks. From this vantage point they could see across the whole of Zul'Mamwe. Silently Du'una caught Tiponi's attention and pointed to a bonfire surrounded by trolls not far from them. A tall troll in the centre of the group stood out. He wore a ritualistic mask, ceremonial robes and more charmed troll fetishes than any other she had seen yet. This must be him, Mogh the Undying. She caught Du'una's eye and motioned with her spear. The troll shook her head fiercely, and opened her palms towards Tiponi three times. Eighteen enemies, she calculated, far too many for them to survive the attack. They hunkered down, prepared to watch their quarry until an opportune moment arose. They waited and as the hours began to slowly trickle by, Tiponi's muscles began to ache from remaining crouched, trying not to give away their position. Her mind began to wander in protest. She hadn't really considered her choices until this point. Here she was in this horrible, deadly jungle, hunting a person she did not know to take his heart. All to give to a crazy, perhaps psychopathic Forsaken that she also didn't know. She frowned at the sight below her. True, the Skullsplitters were enemies of the Darkspears, and thus enemies of the horde. She was sworn to serve the horde, and so helping the Forsaken kill an important Skullsplitter Witchdoctor was a great idea! But, if Du'una was also a Skullsplitter, and that Forsaken was an evil manic out to hurt her friend Eucalypto... What should she do!? Could she even turn back now? She had given Du'una her word, and the troll might even get violent this close to having her plans thwarted. She had come all this way... She steeled herself. Mogh is an enemy of the horde, he must die. The other consequences would be seen to later.

Dusk began to settle on the jungle. Tiponi could tell at first because the droning buzz of the irritating insects died down. The trolls lit more sacred bonfires and began to congregate towards the ruined temples. Mogh the Undying spoke a few words in Zandali to his followers and they moved their separate ways. Tiponi sat upright, trying not to disturb loose pebbles from their hiding spot. This was it, the moment they had been waiting for. The Witchdoctor's followers went to join the others while Mogh turned down a small pathway leading toward a cave in the side of the mountain. The two trackers quickly crept down the slope, using the rocks and plants as cover as they made their way toward the cave. Landing on the dirty path Tiponi quickly looked around making sure there were no other trolls in sight. A strange glow emanated from the cave's mouth. They crept as quietly as they could towards their prey.

The troll drew her rusty dagger and Tiponi readied her spear and hide buckler. There was no going back now. As one they leapt into the cave in ambush. There was an altar of some sort in the back of the cave- the source of the glowing light, and patterns of runes painted in dried blood on the floor. The Witchdoctor had his back towards them but spun swiftly as they entered. Tiponi did not hesitate and flung her spear towards the troll. Her aim was true but as her weapon neared the troll it seemed to deflect off of some sort of magical barrier. Tiponi's jaw dropped as she considered the effectiveness of the trollish fetishes. The Witchdoctor grinned, exposing long blood-stained tusks and Tiponi noticed the recognition in his eyes as he lay sight upon Du'una. She suddenly began to feel that she might not live to survive this after all. The troll roared as he completed his magic incantation and a blast of dark magic hurtled towards Du'una. Steeling herself and drawing her kodo horn knife from her belt, Tiponi charged the Witchdoctor.


	82. Chapter 82

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

I only want to know where Darkshire is.  
No, I don't want any company.  
Yes, I will meet you in Booty Bay.  
No, I don't know when.

This was part of the conversation that took place between Hyzanthlay and Eucalypto at the zeppelin landing at Grom Gol. The rogue was rather dejected; he wanted to take her to Duskwood personally.

"Not to say the area is dangerous, my dear, but..."

"You want to hunt humans, go ahead," Hyzanthlay snarled.

"But...you also hunt a human, do you not?"

Hyzanthlay whirled around swiftly, and in her sudden rage she might have struck Eucalypto had he not already disappeared, by far one of a rogue's most annoying talents.

"You mind your business," she snarled into the humid air. Without another word, she summoned her felsteed and galloped north into the jungle. She thought she saw Tiponi wave to her as she did, but she didn't look back.

The Horde spoke more openly of what had happened in Andorhol. The Alliance forces, especially the human race, were still choked by the horror of the plague and Arthas' terrible betrayal. This was what drove the humans of Azeroth so fiercely against the undead. Every race had been tainted by the Scourge, but no other kingdom except Lordaeron had suffered the same horrifying fate. Their lands corrupted and sour, the earth filled with fungus and putrid insects. Their own bodies rotted and rent, unable to live and unable to die.

Like Hyzanthlay, and like the other residents of Beggar's Haunt.

The road from Grom Gol snaked north through the jungle. Hyzanthlay avoided it. Dodging the wild animals in the jungle proved difficult, and a few times Hyzanthlay had to dismount and fight them off. She took note of some of the better fishing spots and resolved to return fairly soon. The insects and heat had no effect on the warlock, and she rode through the night.

There was a small Alliance outpost at the northern end of Stranglethorn Vale. Hyzanthlay was careful to cross the border in the dead of night, even though the outpost was too small even to have an inn and was no threat to her. It crossed her mind that this human she was looking for might show his face either there or in Booty Bay.

The border between Duskwood and Stranglethorn Vale was a deep ravine. An old covered bridge, covered with moss and vines. Hyzanthlay cold smell the rank odor of Deadwind Pass to the east. Not exactly displeasing. She paused for a moment before driving her demonic mount across the thick wooden planks.

Hyzanthlay found Duskwood to be quite pleasant. It was dark and dreary like Tirisfal Glades, dotted with orchards and graveyards. The garrison from Stormwind did not patrol this far, and she roamed the woods and back roads with relative freedom. In it's very heart glowed a strange green light that stank of night elf...and something else. Hyzanthlay was inclined to avoid it initially. Darkshire was more to the east, and she approached it carefully. There were a few citizen militias that patrolled the misty roads, but as she watched them quietly from the dark shadows she saw no-one with a dog. It only took a few dark hours to profile every inch of the town. Hyzanthlay then moved on to the closest thing Duskwood had to a Horde sanctuary; Beggar's Haunt.

Within spitting distance of the entrance to Dreadmist, easily within sight of the last few criminals that had been hung at the shadowy crossroads, the undead were relatively safe here. But they were also isolated, and it had been some time since anyone had stopped by. They were quite taken by their new guest for a variety of reasons.

"And no less the warlock who slew Arugal!" Deathstalker Faustin saluted her with a flourish when she appeared and introduced herself. "Apothecary Zraedus will be...delighted!"

The bottom floor of the ruined tower had been converted to a makeshift lab, where a proud member of the the Royal Apothecary Society did most of his research. He greeted his guest with the usually formalities but did not hide his surprise.

"My dear lady, Hyzanthlay," his orbs glittered with shock, and he lowered them with a bow as if to compose himself. "What brings you to Duskwood? We would think after your triumph in Shadowfang Keep and your recruitment into the Clan you would be serving the Dark Lady personally."

"I admit, Strellabelle has aligned me with the Clan of the Fallen and I have all but accepted. But," and she raised her hand dismissively, "I do not take their orders. My will is my own."

"Oh, is it?" Zraedus seemed to take a keen interest in this. "Not even the Dark Lady herself, then, can bend you to her will?"

Hyzanthlay laughed quietly, sensing that the Apothecary was testing her loyalty. She had heard rumors that Zraedus' self-imposed exile had more to do with his indifference to both the Horde and the Forsaken. It was not uncommon to meet and undead who still had more in common with the Scourge and their strict mandate to wipe out all life; starting with humanity.

"If I have a guild, it is the Forsaken, and my guildmistress is Sylvanas. You, yourself, Zraedus, could have a place in Undercity next to Putress herself. And yet here you are, in this ruined tower, many miles hence."

"Ah, Putress," Zraedus smiled rather fondly. "So long since I've seen her dear rotted face! The Royal Apothecary Society has become a powerful force under her strict and relentless guidance. And you are also an alchemist with...shall we say, an independent spirit?"

Faustin and Zraedus nodded to each other silently, and Hyzanthlay sensed that something else had just happened.

"Come, the sun will be coming up soon. It doesn't make much of a difference in Duskwood, but the shade in the tower is preferable. We have much to discuss."


	83. Chapter 83

Tiponi lunged at the troll. She stabbed at him with her horn knife but the blade was deflected by his fetish warding. She could only watch in horror as the shadow magic consumed Du'una completely. She gritted her teeth and stabbed in a frenzy, each stroke was deflected without even marring her blade. The troll expertly began twirling his staff, blocking her attacks. The weapon looked to be more of a status symbol than an actual fighting implement, adorned with feathers and skulls as it was, but its reach far exceeded that of her dagger and Tiponi couldn't get an opening. Searching desperately for another option she scanned the cavern floor to see where her spear had fallen. Her eyes were not drawn to her weapon but to her troll companion. Du'una stepped through the flames of shadow, the tendrils of dark magic buffeting around her protective magic. Her charms worked! Tiponi's laugh of exultation was cut short as the troll flicked his staff at her wrists, the impact struck hard upon her hand and her nerves jarred, dropping her dagger from her grasp.

The Witchdoctor turned to Du'una and spoke in Zandali to her. "Dim ting wehnehjo cyaa Zufli."

Tiponi struggled to find her knife, the floor of the cave was covered in scraps and bones. She searched frantically but it was no use, she was weaponless. She heard her friend reply, "Enough to destroy you.", before she started screaming. Mogh the Undying had his finger pointing, adorned with a hideously long curling fingernail, towards Du'una. The troll flailed with her arms, screaming in pure terror as she clawed at her own face.

There was only one thing to do. Tiponi lowered her horns and charged. She struck hard against the Witchdoctor, and in the instant his concentration was broken she felt her horns slip through his warding and enter his flesh. She gored him like a Bristleback boar used its tusks. He howled in pain and turned his magic on her. Tiponi anticipated the burning, and prayed that the Earthmother would tend her spirit, but the pain didn't come. For a moment she was confused until realisation struck her. The Witchdoctor was not trying to hurt her, he was her friend! It was Du'una that was her enemy, Du'una that had lied to her. Filthy troll! She must DIE! With an angry roar she turned and was blasted off her feet by a shockwave. When she shook her head clear she saw the ruin of Mogh crumpled on the ground and flickers of shadow magic dispersing from Du'una's fingers. That was weird, she thought, I had been nearly ready to kill her.

"I," she hesitated, trying to think of the words, "I think he tried to control my mind."

"Ya mon," Du'una nodded, "Strong mojo, but not strong enough. Ha!"

Tiponi left Du'una to retrieve the Witchdoctor's heart until she could recover her blade. As she searched the piles of rubbish on the cavern floor she caught sight of an altar at the back of the cave. It was a slab of rock, covered in instruments of magic. Hanging above the altar, seemingly suspended in mid-air was a strange crystal. It was flat and thin, kind of like a strangely shaped purple mirror, but as she gazed into it she saw more than simply her reflection. Tiponi could feel her gaze pull to the crystal. Something stirred within its depths, and she heard a barely audible whisper. She felt that if she just listened hard enough she might be able to comprehend something majestic. There was power in this crystal, it promised profound understanding. A new enlightenment, a new age, if only she could understand. If only "–OOF".

The wind was knocked out of Tiponi's lungs as the troll barrelled into her, smashing the purple crystal into a thousand tiny shards at it hit the floor. Angrily Tiponi shouted "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"

Du'una stool still for a moment, frowning and studying Tiponi's face. After a slight pause she re-sheathed her dagger – when had she drawn that? "What be you tinkin?" she asked in return.

Tiponi was puzzled for a moment until she noticed her position. Without realising it she had crossed the length of the cave and had been reaching for the crystal at the very moment Du'una had broken it. "I don't know... " she replied, lowering her head.

"Powerful voodoo, too too strong for you, little Tauren." Du'una said. She cocked her head slightly, "Did it speak to you?"

Tiponi hesitated, "No", she replied, "I heard nothing."

"Den we best be going, ya know." She made her way to the mouth of the cave. The Witchdoctor's corpse had been butchered. A gaping hole in his chest marked where his heart had been removed and he was missing his head. Du'una carried a bloodied sack full of the remains. "Get ya weapons mon, dere be a flood of angry trolls comin for us now."


	84. Chapter 84

She was going to die, and yet strangely she felt no fear. With her horn knife in her belt and her short spear and buckler in her hands, Tiponi ran through the Zul'Mamwe ruins with what seemed like the entirety of the Skullsplitter tribe at her heels. And yet she was not afraid. Here in the heat of battle, when her heart beat thrummed in her ears and every moment could be her last, here she was at peace with herself. Tiponi thrust with her short spear into a troll that rounded the ruins in front of her. Smoothly the short blade pierced his flesh and retreated as she withdrew for a fresh strike. Like a viper she lashed out and again at her foes, pushing ever forward. She fought back to back with the wicked troll Du'una as they pressed their way through the ruins. Tiponi cleared the path with her bulk and battered down any who might block her, while Du'una covered her rear protecting her from the Skullsplitter's voodoo spells and unleashing bolts of her own dark magic against the trolls that tried to bring them down with a sniper's arrow. Tiponi was drenched in blood and sweat. Her muscles should have been tiring and aching from the strain but her adrenalin pumped the fatigue away and replaced it with fury. She roared as she struck them down, troll after troll, foe after foe fell before her. She did not see their faces, she did not register their last dying moments. She was an unstoppable machine of destruction.

"How...much...farther?" she panted.

"It not be long now." Du'una answered between quick mutters of her incantations. "We be nearly past the Balia'mah ruins."

"And then what?" Tiponi looked over her shoulder at the trolls behind her. They came in a wave, armed warriors at the front with mystics and Witchdoctors spotted among them. Troll archers clambered into positions in the surrounding hills to rain death upon them from on high. "Hmm? More trolls?"

"Ha!" the troll laughed, she seemed to be actually enjoying this! "Nah mon." Tiponi sighed in relief. "Dere be ogres beyond."

"What!?" Tiponi wailed. "Then we have no escape..."

Du'una just smiled that familiar grin. "I be havin a plan. Just follow."

They ran. All pretence of a fighting retreat was abandoned as they fled the trollish ruins. Their pursuers were not relenting and surged forward behind them. Tiponi's legs felt as though they were on fire. Every step pained her and the muscles in her chest began to ache. The ruins were sparser here, and as they raced across the field Tiponi stumbled, her knees collapsing beneath her. She was not finished yet! Frantically she tried to get up but pain shot through her left leg. Looking down she saw a sharp shard of rock lodged in the soft part of her hoof. Du'una had stopped and looked at her with an expression that read, 'Now is not the time.' Gritting her teeth Tiponi pulled the shard free, but it was no use, she could no longer run. Her hoof would not support her.

"Go on," she called to Du'una, "No point in us both dying here." The troll furrowed her brow at Tiponi and then took off out without a word. Humph... Tiponi frowned. Some friend she was... Tiponi limped her way behind cover of a tree. She would not last long with the trolls closing so fast but she would not let them take her easily. Then she saw Du'una. The troll was running back towards her! "What are you doing!?" she called, "Save yourself!"

The troll turned back the way she had come and hurled some small object that glittered in the sun. "Ha! Take dat dumb ogre! Skullsplitter take your lands now! Haha! Stupid ogre can't catch me!" and she ran.

Tiponi sat gobsmacked. The troll was truly crazy, without a doubt. A horde of angry ogres followed Du'una as she led them back to the trolls. Some of them glistened faintly and stank of...wait, was that troll sweat? How much of that stuff did trolls carry with them anyhow!? Tiponi hid in the bushes and watched the slaughter. When the Mosh'Ogg ogres ploughed out of their mound at the Skullsplitters, the trolls barely slowed in their charge. The large brutes barrelled into the troll warriors as their two-headed mages threw fire into the lines. The witchdoctors fought back with impunity and soon the Balia'mah ruins ran red with blood.

Du'una appeared beside her, "Time to be leavin." And with the troll at her side they headed back to Grom'gol, leaving death and ruin in their wake.


	85. Chapter 85

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Gracie sniffed along the overgrown path as the sun started to rise. She resisted the urge to charge along the path yelping at the top of her lungs. The air was thick with the smell of the undead. Normally the tower only had two inhabitants, but a third was among them and was staying for longer than just to ask directions. She could hear the rustle of excited whispers behind the heavy slate walls.

But there was something else that drew her; a soft, intricate kind of smell that was distinctly familiar. She couldn't quite place it and that was a source of bitter consternation. Carefully staying close to the ground, she raised her snout and took in as much air as she could. Her ears strained forward to catch any note that flitted by.

A sharp whistle startled her. The light was creeping over the dewy grass; her Master had arisen. In a flash, she had covered the distance between the tower and the path and was standing attentively by his side.

Jonathan had emerged from his drunken stupor slowly and achingly. He rubbed his neck and groaned. Sighing sadly, he replaced the cap on the now empty flask and carefully wrapped it up again. It occurred to him as he slowly rose to his feet that Gracie had wandered off. That was not so unusual, but he always hoped that she would not go any closer to the tower.

A shirt, sharp whistle and she was back at his side, her bright eyes and bushy tail a stark contrast to her rumpled master's demeanor.

"Hmm," he exhaled and put a hand on her head, "your weren't over by the tower, were you?"

Gracie's only reply was a dewy eyed and thoroughly innocent silence. Jonathan sighed and stroked her fondly before pocketing the flask and strolling down the hill. Gracie tagged along behind, and he couldn't help but notice she seemed preoccupied. He was a bit distracted himself. Althea would be asking where he had been.

It was still fairly early and not many of the villagers were awake. Jonathan thought he had crept successfully into the inn unseen, but he was just starting on his first cup of coffee when the Commander of the Night Watch marched into the inn and parked herself decisively across from him. Gracie sank to the floor, ears pressed against the sides of her face, anticipating what was about to happen.

"Where were you last night?" Althea asked angrily.

Jonathan sipped his coffee and lowered his eyes. He started to say, "Well, I..." but was cut off.

"You were at the Tower again, weren't you?" She said, her voice quiet but bitter.

"No, not..." Jonathan shifted uncomfortably and tried to hide behind the rim of his coffee cup, "not the whole night."

Althea stared at him, her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. After a few moments of angry silence she spoke again.

"All night you were up there alone? Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"No, of course not," he laughed, oblivious to the anger in her voice, "Gracie was with me."

"And so was she...your true best friend!" Althea snarled and her hand thrust forward into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. She clutched the flask and yanked it out. The purple cloth fell to the floor and the silver flashed in the morning light.

"Empty," Althea sneered. "So, this is what you spend your nights with? Rather with this, instead of with me?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to answer but he was cut off again, this time by Gracie. She had started barking, and this usually meant only one thing. Althea dropped the flask and drew her sword. Two city guards who had been eating breakfast nearby and watching the scene with interest now leapt to their feet. Althea signaled them outside. Jonathan had drawn a pistol and was checking the powder, but then he paused and took note of Gracie.

Yes, she was making enough noise to wake the dead in case there weren't any walking around already. But her hackles were not raised, the hair on her tail and shoulders was not bristling. She was not squinting or growling as she typically did when danger was nearby, but instead her eyes were wide open and filled with light.

"Gracie?" Jonathan leaned closer, and the little dog spun and crouched as if to play. Her bark sounded like a laugh.

"Gracie!" He said again, this time more severely. "What is wrong with you?"

The dog abruptly stopped, but continued to fitfully wag her tail. She whimpered at him as if in apology, then lay down. And that was when Jonathan saw the purple handkerchief lying on the floor in front of her. She thrust her snout into it, then looked at him imploringly, before barking once more.


	86. Chapter 86

Tiponi stretched out her arms and yawned as the morning sun crested the log wall at Grom'gol base camp. She gave thanks to the Earthmother as she began to dress, and there were a great many things to be thankful for. She gave thanks for surviving her escape at Zul'Mamwe, surely the Earthmother had protected her there for her to have made it out safely. She gave thanks that her hoof was on the mend, now she only had the slightest limp as she walked and that would heal in short time. Finally she gave thanks that today she would get to leave this accursed, infested, stinking hot, inhospitable, barbaric HELLHOLE that was Stranglethorn Vale. She breathed deeply, rubbing her temples. The zeppelin was leaving today. As an afterthought she also whispered a brief prayer to the Earthmother on behalf of her friends. She hoped that Eucalypto and Hyzanthlay were safe.

As Tiponi left the simple accommodation set aside for zeppelin passengers she caught sight of Du'una with the other trolls on the far side of the camp. They were gathered around a large cauldron set atop a roaring fire and their cackling laugher carried across the camp. As she approached the trolls stopped their conversation to regard her.

"Mmmm..." Tiponi murmured, "What are you cooking?" The trolls looked at one another and burst out laughing. One of the trolls collapsed onto the ground in a fit of cackling giggles and the others laughed even harder at him for that. Tiponi gritted her teeth a little. She had only tried to be polite and rekindle their conversation. She couldn't understand the humour. Other races could be so rude! She crossed her arms across her chest. "Well, what's so funny?" she asked, unimpressed.

Du'una stifled her cackles to reply, as she stirred the cauldron, "Mogh the Formally Undying head soup." She exploded into laugher and the others joined her.

Tiponi gagged. She could see something bobbing in the brown bubbling liquid. "Ugh." Was all she could say.

Du'una scooped her ladle into the cauldron and retrieved the bobbing object. Despite her disgust, Tiponi couldn't help but be intrigued. The object was far smaller than the Witchdoctor's head had been. It was smaller than her fist, but upon closer inspection, she gasped and withdrew in horror. It was Mogh's head, but somehow shrunk to a quarter of its former size. Its eyes and mouth had been stitched crudely shut and its crest of dark blue hair was a matted nest atop it.

"What did you do?" Tiponi asked in shock.

Du'una smiled, bouncing the shrunken head on her spoon. "Now his mojo be mine. Ha!"

"Is this voodoo?" Tiponi asked suspiciously.

Du'una grinned maliciously, exposing her short yellow tusks. "Well Mogh, my pet, da Tauren asked you a question." The air seemed to chill for a moment as mist swirled in the cauldron, forming into the shape of the Witchdoctor Mogh's visage. Tiponi scrambled back with her mouth hanging open, the other trolls weren't laughing now.

The translucent face, the spirit of Mogh the Undying spat in Du'una's face and launched into a tirade in Zandali. "A t'ief iyaz yudo riva Zufli! Mek dim wha ju tor yeyewata wi'mek!"

"Silence spirit." Du'una commanded and the translucent image contorted in silent rage.

Tiponi pulled herself up from the ground, still shaken from what she had seen. "Why did you do this Du'una? This is an abomination! Spirits of the dead belong to the Earthmother, you don't have the right to steal his soul!"

Du'una raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh, dat so? Ya be prefferin for dis spirit to be free to seek revenge upon us? Dis is troll voodoo mon! We been shrinkin heads and trappin evil spirits since before da War of da Ancients. Who be you to condemn our ways, hmm?"

Tiponi veritably shook in anger. What the troll was doing was detestable, abject evil and wrong! She quivered as she spoke "All spirits are welcomed back to the Earthmother in death. By keeping his spirit you are offending the Earthmother. This is morally reprehensible, it is EVIL!" her last sentence ended in a shriek that drew the gaze of the orcs across the camp. Tiponi glanced sideways but paid them no heed.

"Oh?" Du'una asked with a wicked gleam in her eye. "I do not believe in your Ert-mudder. It is not your Ert-mudder I offend it is you. And who be you to speak of evils and morals. You did not be complainin earlier when you started a war against two races as a cover for your escape after you brutally murdered a public official. Who be YOU to question MY etics? Ha!"

Tiponi deflated. Her righteous fury was replaced with doubt and self loathing. It was true, she had done those things. Hundreds had died just so she could escape after committing her wicked deed. What had she done? She ran from the laughing trolls, burying her face in her hands as tears streamed down her fur. _What have I become?_


	87. Chapter 87

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Rik had always liked Booty Bay. It was gritty and filthy and oozing with character. Virtually every kind of creature in Azeroth that could count gold and tip a mug had wandered over it's crooked boardwalks. Even a creature like his friend Eucalypto could find enthusiastic and non-judgmental business partners. Rogues were generally well off anyway; Eucalypto was richer than most. He was a talented rogue and leather worker, obsessed with perfection. He knew exactly which ore held the most precious stones and always seemed to know exactly how much the blacksmiths would need. So it did not surprise Rik when he got word from Eucalypto in Booty Bay. He had enough to start to the guild, after only a few days in Stranglethorn! He explained nothing in his letter, which was typical of his cryptic friend. Something that he preferred not be written down, no doubt.

And so, Rik walked cheerily into the Salty Sailor tavern expecting to see a happy wave from his friend, sitting behind a pile of gold and jewels, perhaps. Instead, he found him sitting quietly at a dark little table with his scraggy head in his leather hands. His tankard, sitting sadly next to an unlit candle, was empty.

"Good evening, friend! So nice to see you again!" The Tauren raised one of his massive hands in greeting, hoping to rouse the unhappy creature out of his stupor. But Eucalypto's head seemed to sink even deeper into his hands, and he remained silent.

"Ahem...what news?" The Tauren asked, as he squeezed himself into the smaller seat and nodded to the barmaid, a plucky little goblin who launched herself in their direction.

"Welcome, friend!" She proudly displayed her sharp little teeth in a sincere smile, but her eyes also regarded his somber companion as if to say, Are you sure you're at the right table?

"Greetings! Refill my friend's mug and I'll have one of the same, and..." he pointed suggestively at the unlit candle.

"Leave it," croaked Eucalypto. The little goblin widened her eyes in acknowledgment and scurried back to the bar with his empty glass.

"Does...something ail you, Eucalypto?" Rik felt silly asking an undead such a question but he felt like he was at a loss.

The undead rogue exhaled heavily, wheezing, and whispered something that Rik couldn't understand. He seemed to be speaking a strange language.

"Whaddayasai?" Rik snickered and made a face as the goblin lass returned with two foaming tankards. Only her thick hoop earrings and the tips of her ears were visible as she waddled up to them. She didn't look at Eucalypto before taking the gold Rik was holding out and bolting to another table.

"I...she's...I can't find her." Eucalypto muttered into the table. "She's gone, she's gone..."

"Oh, well," Rik coughed, wondering who he was going on about this time. That Felstone girl, perhaps. "They...uh... sometimes come back..."

"No, NO..." Eucalypto waved his hands helplessly, "She's GONE. They took her. We won't...ever...see her again."

"The warlock?" The Druid asked. "Hyzanthlay?" She had earned herself some notable enemies, but it was difficult to imagine her being taken anywhere by anyone.

"Your people spoke of her. I used to watch her, too, but they took her away..."

"Our...our people..?"

"The Blue Lady," Eucalypto said said, raising his head. For a moment his eyes filled the table with a sickly yellow light before fading again. "They took her...she's gone. She's gone forever."

Rik sighed as Eucalypto took a generous swig from the full tankard. The Blue Lady was an old story from his childhood. Once upon a time, Azeroth had two moons. The bright, white moon an another smaller moon that gave off little light and only appeared on occasion. They nicknamed her the Blue Lady. But...had it been a story? Had he seen the moon in his childhood, or was he remembering an old dream from the fireside?

"Oh, Eucalypto," Rik sighed and dug his flint and tinder out of his pack, "how do you expect to find anything at this dark little table? No wonder you keep losing...ehm...things."

As he spoke, he opened his tinderbox and began to strike a small spark.

"The Blue Lady was pleasant enough, as the stories say," he continued in his gruff but pleasant Tauren tone. "But she gives no light, so we need some of our own."

The little spark caught on the bit of tinder that Rik was holding. How many rainy, windy nights in Mulgore had the light of a small fire been a beacon of hope for his whole family? These days he could light a simple candle in his sleep.

"There now," the little spark clung to the wick and happily grew, "we can have light whenever we want it."

Eucalypto blinked at the little flame, as if he had never seen fire before. He sighed again, and dropped his head.

"I'll never see her again," he mumbled, shaking his head and reaching blindly for his tankard.

Rik sighed and sipped his mead. Perhaps he had left his friend alone for too long. Any discussions about money or the guild would have to wait until morning.


	88. Chapter 88

Kwahu Darkmane shook out his heavy mane as he deeply inhaled the warm breeze bringing the scent of the grasslands. He gazed across his homeland from atop the Elder Rise. A beautiful field of endless green stretched out before him and he saw the Earthmother's work in its beauty. A flock of birds fluttered between the mesas and in his heart he soared with them. One day he might join them in body too.

The deep rumble of a Shu'halo clearing his throat behind him tore his attention away from the majesty below. Turak Runetotem was an Elder, with more than a few grey hairs in his fur. Seeing his mentor, Kwahu bowed deeply.

"Spirits guide you, Elder." He greeted deferentially.

The old Tauren moved slowly, as if every action was well-considered, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that spoke of a young mind. "I heard you wanted to see me Kwahu."

"Oh yes, sir, it's about my sister." The younger Tauren tried not to wring his hands.

"Oh, how is Fala? I heard she is getting on well with her new mate. Is she settling into Narache?"

Kwahu began a slow walk across the rise to give him something to occupy his nerves. "Fala? No. I mean, yes, she's fine. I speak of Tiponi."

"Ahh yes, of course, the youngest. She was always a free spirit, yes? And terribly stubborn too, kind of like someone else I know?" He smiled fondly at Kwahu and the young Shu'halo bowed his head in embarrassment.

"I want to go after her." Kwahu said steeling himself and looking the Elder in the eye. "She is only a child and she knows nothing of the world. I'm worried she's in great danger. She always found a way to make trouble... Master I swear that I will return to my studies immediately upon my return. Please grant me this request." He lowered himself to one knee prostrate before the Elder.

The old Shu'halo laughed and scratched his beard. "What was I just saying about free spirited, hmm? Very well. If you insist on finding your sister I wish you luck and I will teach you how to run swiftly as the cheetah."

"Oh! Thankyou master! Thankyou!" Kwahu grabbed the older Tauren in an enthusiastic hug. The Elder groaned and Kwahu grinned sheepishly. "I need to get ready, I will return shortly!" He began racing across the wooden planked bridge.

"Oh Kwahu," Turak called as he retreated, "are you so sure she will be willing to come home?"

Kwahu paused and turned back to the Elder with his expression grim. "I will make her return."


	89. Chapter 89

The screams filled her ears. They were unending cries of agony and terror. Frantically she tried to escape, panic overwhelmed her. Tiponi reached the end of the void, teetering on the edge of oblivion. It was her voice that was screaming. She tumbled, and landed in a heap on the floor of the cabin.

"Oof." She grunted as the wind was crushed from her lungs. Faint footsteps and a light source announced company. She squinted in the lamplight at Jorry, one of the goblins working the night shift aboard the zeppelin as he entered her cabin, lamp in hand.

"Is everything ok in here?" he asked as she pulled herself off the floor, "You were making a racket again."

Tiponi blinked slowly rubbing her head, "Sorry about that, I'm alright." The goblin frowned at her and muttered under his breath as he left her alone.

She had been having trouble sleeping of late, trouble she attributed to her disturbed conscience. In her dreams she was trapped in a hell of her own making, one of fire and death and oblivion. The only sounds in the quiet night besides the thumping of her blood in her ears were those of groaning wood and creaking rope, but the memory of her screams remained.

The voyage back to Undercity seemed even longer than the trip to Stranglethorn had taken. Perhaps it was because her friends Hyzanthlay and Eucalypto were no longer with her. She had stopped spending time with Du'una as well. She just didn't feel comfortable around the troll anymore after what had happened. She sighed and walked out to the balcony. The deck was empty except for a skeleton crew of goblins maintaining the zeppelin. A slight breeze stirred the night and Mu'sha glowed full and bright, casting her gaze over all.

Tiponi wished she could hide from her sight. She had made so many mistakes, all with the best of intentions. She had wanted to see the world, to serve the horde. No, she shook her head, she was far more selfish than that. She had wanted to have fun, to experience the excitement she had always dreamed of, but more than those things she had wanted to escape. She had run away, abandoning her people. They had forbidden her, ordered her, pleaded with her. None of those things dissuaded her. Eventually she just left them, with only a hastily written note to find. She regretted that above all things.

She left them. Her poor father, always trying to do what was best for them. Her sister, kind, generous and endlessly patient. And her brother, sweet Kwahu. He used to join her in their daydreams, they would laugh as they spoke of leaving together. Until the druids called. Their new magic was taught by the Night Elves. They said he had talent, he could learn, and then he had no time for their games. Sometimes she had regretted leaving them, but if she had stayed things would be no different. She would be guarding the village, hunting, cleaning, cooking all day, every day until they found her a mate and sent her off to some other village to cook and clean for them. The thought of such a life disgusted Tiponi, and although she regretted turning her back on her family she could not resign herself to such a fate.

The clouds below cleared for a brief moment and she caught a glimpse of the shimmering reflection of Mu'sha glittering off Lordamere Lake below. In the past she might have been overjoyed to see the light of the Earthmother in all its splendour, but tonight she covered her face in her hands so that she might not see it any longer.


	90. Chapter 90

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay crouched rather miserably in the dark shadows near the Swamp of Sorrows. The air reeked of dragons and herbs. Quite a pleasant place to stop and catch her figurative breath. The first few rosy fingers of dawn were creeping in from the misty ocean, and as soon as she was sure her pursuers had given up the chase did she turn and make her way to Stonard.

The previous several hours had not been very productive. They had begun well with the meeting in the tower but things had degenerated from there.

The three undead talked well into the afternoon. The small, narrow tower was soon clouded with smoke and hoarse whispers, punctuated with the usual laugh or angry outburst. Hyzanthlay didn't always agree with her hosts, but it was refreshing to speak to like-minded undead, aware of their state, unashamed and unrepentant. They went on at length about the Royal Apothecary Society, the Forsaken, and the Dark Lady herself. Eventually, the conversation turned to more casual matters; namely, herbalism and her personal reasons for being in Duskwood.

"So, no recollection at all?" Zraedus said, rubbing the bit of flesh left on his chin. "Not so unusual. And you think this human can help you?"

"I've seen these two, this man and the dog that the troll spoke of," Faustin said. "They are fairly well-known. This man, he comes to the graveyard outside of the Tower sometimes. Some humans do, to pay their respects. But he comes and drinks, then falls asleep."

"Careless fool," snarled Zraedus. "If it wasn't for the stink the damn dog would raise every time we move, we would have eaten him by now."

This prompted a hearty laugh among the small gathering. Hyzanthlay grinned, but inside she was distraught. So far, he just sounded like an average human who got lucky. If he even saw her, he would probably run and hide. And as for the dog, at best she would make a pair of leather boots for some young rogue. A promising lead was starting to feel like a dead end. Even if she managed to meet him, and he did not run away, what could he tell her?

She thanked them for their gracious hospitality, and they apologized profusely for their humble offerings. When she stepped out into the night she did not have a clear plan. Destruction Warlocks were by nature poor planners, losing interest in anything that took more than three stages. Well, if he did business with Trolls and Tauren, maybe it was time he meet another illustrious Horde race. If he had survived Andorhol intact, how squeamish could he be?

Hyzanthlay took her time exploring the area near the tower. She saw signs of dog and man, enough to know that they came here often and had been here recently. There was no rush, as the hillsides were dark and quiet. She found dog tracks, clearly from a domesticated creature that didn't think about leaving prints in a familiar place. A human had rested here the night before, and Hyzanthlay could still smell the booze that had tainted his breath. There was no trace of smoke in the air. She touched her herb pouch and hoped he would appreciate their exchange.


	91. Chapter 91

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Just to be safe, Althea had returned to her duties and was distracted. An extra patrol would be sent out this morning. She would personally check the perimeter of the town with an escort.

Jonathan had secretly been grateful for the false alarm in the tavern. He had abandoned his coffee as soon as Gracie had started barking, and after seeing to his pistol ushered her outside. A few town guards ran past them, as Althea had ordered them to re-enforce the patrols and bring lit torches and lamp oil with them. By now the light was strong in the sky, and they were meant to be weapons. Jonathan insisted on going on his own as usual, but took some extra oil and tinder for his lantern, as well as an extra torch. Althea was busy and took little notice of him as he quietly slipped away.

Gracie didn't make a peep as they started their usual rounds. Usually they didn't take this route until the mid-afternoon. Their first patrol would circle Darkshire, starting with Manor Mistmantle, then turn abrupty south to the Tranquil Garden's Cemetary.

Gracie sniffed about half-heartedly. They had already been here not too long ago. Was her Master returning to his place of repose so quickly? Her heart sank a little when she saw him closely examining the purple handkerchief. Perhaps she had upset him.

Jonathan made sure that nobody was watching them or within earshot. He thrust the bit of cloth into Gracie's face again, his face twisted with emotion.

"Well?" He whispered. "Is it...is it...this?"

Sometimes he would raise it to his face too, as if his human nose could also recognize the smell. She wasn't sure he understood it the same way that she did. The smell by the tower and the scent of the cloth were different but...they were the same.

She didn't like the way he shoved it at her face, and turned away silently.

Jonathan angrily stuffed it back in his pocket, muttering to himself. He did not like the thoughts that were running through his head. He had kept that bit of rag for ages; it was his only keepsake of her, and the little dog had loved her just as much.

It was inevitable that people would seek him out to ask about Andorhal. They had a relative, a friend, perhaps he had seen them? Was this shop or home or landmark still standing when you last saw it? And the most chilling of all, and spoken with the most terror if hey dared to ask at all, Is there a chance they fell...and rose again?

The might of the Scourge lay in it's power to corrupt the land and raise the dead, both of which they would bed to their will. Was there a chance, they would ask...that their loved one had risen, and walked in undeath?

He would usually lie, and answer no. It was what they wanted to hear. What result would a "yes" elicit? Perhaps a holiday to Undercity was in order for a family reunion?

She had always been a smart girl. Too smart, and too eerie to escape the notice of the Scarlets. For a woman of that age to live and travel alone, without a family. It had been stupid. She should have known better. It had been her own fault.

And if she was roaming these woods, all that would drive her now was hatred. Perhaps she was seeking him out to exact her revenge. He could not deny he had played a part in it.

His hands trembled as he checked his gun again, and his heart thudded in his chest.


	92. Chapter 92

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Even in the bright morning sunlight, where even the most hardy undead were unlikely to roam, Jonathan found himself jumping at every bird chirp and twig snap.

As it turns out, he did not see her until much later, when night had fallen.

From Tranquil Gardens they had moved west, through the Rotting Orchard and the old farmsteads. Usually he felt a sense of harmony as he passed by the Twilight Grove but it did not come today. Occasionally they would run into other members of the Night Watch, but there had been no sign of any undead lurking near the town. Only the usual mindless zombies that roamed the abandoned homes and lurked in the graveyards.

Ah well, they said, patting the unhappy Gracie gently, can't be right all of the time then, eh?

Jonathan laughed nervously. Well get to it fellas, better safe than sorry!

By the time they had been through Raven Hill and had patrolled the Darkened Bank, it was well past dusk. A crescent moon was floating across the starry sky, and after a day of searching and sweating, especially following a night of fitful sleep outside, Jonathan's fatigue was getting the better of his fear. It had just been a false alarm. Even the best dog couldn't be perfect. He turned and looked at her tenderly. She was following obediently, nose to the ground, as if even more downtrodden about her mistake earlier in the day.

They were within sight of the town's lights, but in a dark part of the road. Jonathan turned away from the city for a moment and called to the dog.

She crouched in the shadows, and did not come. In fact, she lowered her head and whined a little.

That's rather strange, Jonathan thought to himself. Was she hurt?

And then he heard a footstep behind him. The wind turned, and the limbs of the overhanging trees shuddered. The foul stench of rotting flesh filled his nostrils. He shivered, then turned, slowly, moving his hand carefully towards his pistol.

It was standing in the road, in plain sight, almost invisible in the dark. It's bright eyes were glimmering, a putrid, unnatural light. He saw no demon, and it wore cloth. Definitely no mindless husk or wandering ghoul, or even an apothecary that had wandered further away from his lab than usual. A mage or a priest, still reeking of blood from its last kill. It had bloodstains in its lips.

No, not a priest. It drew its weapon, a one-handed sword, and planted it decisively in the ground. Then it stepped forward slowly, keeping it' hands raised. Did mages wield swords? Why hadn't it killed him? Why hadn't Gracie raised an alarm?

Without taking his eyes from the undead creature, he opened the lantern and used it to light one of the torches. It blazed black smoke with the oil and wool cloth.

Gracie started to whine quietly. Why was she not barking? Jonathan thought angrily. They were so close to Darkshire. Members of the night watch could not be far away. What was wrong with her?

The creature stopped, then slowly reached towards its belt. He bit his lip and waved the torch threateningly. His fingers clutched the barrel of his gun. It did not seem threatened by any of this. In fact, its sickening grin seemed to widen as if it found the whole thing rather funny. Jonathan then realized it was carrying a herb pouch, and it threw a few small, pungent branches on the ground in front of his feet.

Kingsblood! He thought incredulously. A herb of some repute and value. Could it be trying to trade?

Without moving any closer, it crouched on the ground, and wrote a word in the dirt in front of him. It was a bit messy, as it was writing upside-down so he could read it. But it clearly said, "Andorhal."

Jonathan's hands started to shake. He had tried to avoid the obvious conclusion. But now that he could get a better look, the creature was most definitely female. And still, Gracie did not bark, but continued to crouch close to the ground and whine softly as if wounded.

Could it be her?

As of to answer his question, the creature raised herself to her full height and opened the front of her robe, exposing her rent and mutilated chest to him.

Jonathan cried out in sheer, convulsive terror and threw the torch towards her. He stumbled backward, trying to twist his face away from that terrible vision. Gracie started barking, raising a noise that all in the town would hear.

Some followed in a futile but heated pursuit. The others found Jonathan crouched by the side of the road, the palms of his hands pressed against his eyes, weeping and shaking his head in fierce disbelief.


	93. Chapter 93

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Eucalypto;

You will be pleased to know that my raid through Darkshire was neither productive or amusing. I have gained a torch. That is all.

Stonard is, as you said, a festering swamp filled with amphibious, flesh eating monsters. And trolls. I am rather enjoying it. I've sent along some herbs for your enjoyment. Expect to hear more from me in my travels. I may have use for a rogue.

Hyzanthlay


	94. Chapter 94

Tiponi stumped her way to the Undercity entrance. She stifled a yawn into her hand and began reciting to herself what she had planned to say. 'Hello insane Forsaken Lady. I have your heart here, but I will only give it to you if you promise not to hurt Eucalypto.' The uneven sunken paving stones proved unstable footing for her hooves and she kept her head down as she approached the city.

"Would you look who's back?" the gravelly voice beside her asked.

Looking up she recognised the two guards at the front entrance. They were the same two who had bodily thrown her out of the city the last time. Gritting her teeth she announced "I have business here, stand aside."

The Deathguard grinned at his fellow. "Business making trouble? We'll have none of that. Turn back the way you came Tauren, or we'll follow through with the threat of selling your primest cuts."

Tiponi drew herself up to her full height, she might not have reached her full adult height yet but she towered over the guards nonetheless. She growled loudly and stared into the eyes of the Deathguard who had spoken. "I have business in your city, business that took a lot of killing to accomplish. I am in no mood for games. Now LEAVE ME." She took a single threatening step towards the guard.

"Whoa there Bessie, alright, alright. Just don't be making trouble is all." Tiponi barely gave them time to move as she shouldered through.

Built deep into the earth, the Undercity was well named as it rested beneath the former city of Lordaeron. The Forsaken utilised a similar lift and pulley system as her people had to scale the mesas of Thunder Bluff. But whereas she remembered the lifts of her people being slow, peaceful affairs, the Forsaken lifts dropped suddenly and stopped with a jolt. Tiponi felt as though she had left her stomach behind her. The Undercity was crafted like a maze, she frequently lost her sense of direction and became turned about. It was impossible to take a straight route in this city. She considered that its design would be of great use to the defenders if Undercity were ever besieged, but for now it was a hassle for her to navigate.

She spotted a sign directing her to the War Quarter, where the blacksmith shops were and she steeled her resolve. As she made her way she continued to practise her lines. 'Eucalypto is my friend, you will not hurt him. No... I will kill you before I see Eucalypto hurt... No... What do you want with my friend?'

It was not long before she reached her destination, the warmth from the forges heated the surrounding area. It suddenly occurred to Tiponi that she didn't know the name of the Forsaken woman. She asked the bowyer for directions. "I'm looking for a crazy Forsaken lady."

The woman blinked slowly. "Can you be more specific?"

"She has really green skin, rotting teeth. She knows something about armor crafting."

"Oh," the woman laughed, "Sounds like Mirelle Tremayne. She owns the smithy at the end of this block."

Tiponi thanked the woman and headed off. 'You will leave Eucalypto alone, I got the heart...' The shop was a smaller affair than the more popular Van Brunt's Smithy, almost completely obscured by the gun shop next door. The woman working the forge was the one she sought. She cleared her throat. "Mirelle?"

The woman turned, raising her protective face mask to peer at Tiponi with those unnerving orb eyes. Tiponi's resolve began to wane. She recalled just how swiftly this woman had manipulated her the last time they spoke. "It is good to see you have returned. You bring news, I take it?"

Tiponi swallowed and held out the bag, it weighed heavily with the burden of the Witchdoctor's heart. "Listen," she swallowed again, her voice sounded too high pitched and she tried to steady it, "ahem, Eucalypto is a dear friend of mine and..."

"He was right about you." The woman chimed in as she opened the bag and smiled as she regarded its contents. "You are more capable that you appear. Well done child! You have done very well."

"Yes, thankyou." Tiponi struggled, she'd lost her point, she tried to remember her rehearsed lines. "You spoke to him?"

The woman ignored her question, "I will get you measured up for your armor right away, it will take a few days to forge." She began rooting around in her toolbox. "I will need you to do one more favour for me, yes? You must pay back Eucalypto for me."

Tiponi recoiled from the woman, "I will do no such thing!" She paused, the woman had pulled out a sack that clinked with the sound of heavy coins.

"This is the last of what I owe him, please give it to him when you next see him." Tiponi stood dumb-founded as the woman gave her the heavy coin sack. "And please tell him he was spot on with his tip about the Wailing Caverns. His ore was great quality, my customers were very happy." Tiponi still stood there, her mouth working silently. The Forsaken woman raised an eyebrow at her and smirked, "Alright let's get you measured up."


	95. Chapter 95

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Rik came to with a bit of a headache, but the warm morning light and smell of fresh coffee brought him some relief. The hot, bitter liquid was a luxury in Mulgore but the goblins of Stranglethorn were legendary for their trade in it. Eucalypto seemed to have a taste for it, no doubt from what had been a privileged upbringing in life. Just how privileged was something Rik was to find more about this morning.

Eucalypto was considerably more cheerful and seemed to have forgotten his unhappy rambling from the previous night. He poured Rik some coffee and told him a few stories of the jungle and his forays into Duskwood. Every time Rik tried to raise the subject of the guild startup money, he was politely deflected. Was he playing another game, or perhaps he didn't have money after all? Rik would be rather miffed if he found out he had come all the way from Mulgore just because His Rogueish Highness had been feeling lonely. And that's exactly what he said the next time his host tried to stuff another bit of breakfast pastry into his mouth.

"And you know sugar doesn't agree with me," he added curtly.

"Oh, you let business interfere with a nice brunch!" Eucalypto quickly finished his coffee. "Fine, then."

Rik expected Eucalypto to open a cupboard and see a waterfall of gold and jewels spill out. Perhaps he would lift up a floorboard and reveal a locked and booby-trapped chest filled with various bank notes. But no; Eucalypto had thrown his cape over his shoulders, had picked up his hat, and was preparing to head out the door.

"Where..." The ruffled Tauren looked with confusion at his friend.

"To the Stranglethorn Trust Bank," Eucalypto answered, straightening his cap and throwing his cape over his shoulders. "You wanted to get to work, didn't you?"

Well, if the fund was so vast that it had to be kept in a bank, that was something Rik could live with.

Mornings in Booty Bay were typically quiet to compensate for the late, noisy nights. Only a few locals were out and about, fishing from the boardwalks or shopping for breakfast. They took little note of the undead rogue and his hulking Tauren companion, who kept yawning and stretching.

Rickle Goldgrubber's face was a strange mixture of terror and enthusiasm when he saw Eucalytpo. He smiled nervously and motioned a lackey towards him.

"Good morning, Master...ehm...Eucalypto. You wish to access your...funds?"

A nervous little goblin, no doubt a scribe or accountant, meekly asked if he could take the Master's hat and coat, perhaps bring him some tea? Eucalypto graciously accepted, and could his Tauren friend have the same? The Tauren, who was only dressed in his leather kilt and had no hat or coat, looked rather comical as he politely took the tiny teacup in his massive hand.

"One moment, please," Rickle smiled at the Druid and motioned to Eucalypto. It seemed Rik was expected to wait a moment. There seemed to be some forms to sign. The goblins seemed horrified and submissive at the same time, and it was certainly not Eucalypto's state of undeath that was putting them off. Why all the formality?

"I hope you don't mind, sir," the Scribe said gently, "but with this amount, and the...circumstances, your friend's identity must be verified. Protocol, you understand."

"Well, no, I don't understand at all," Rik said. "Isn't my friend just taking money out of an account?"

"Oh," the goblin faltered awkwardly, "not exactly. But...well I'm afraid that's not my place. Can I get you anything else? Then enjoy your tea, sir."

She seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Eucalypto smiled and asked quietly for more tea before letting her scurry off. He had that look on his face that was quiet and reserved, but Rik knew he was laughing hysterically inside. Rickle looked like he was containing a nervous breakdown. He was holding a bundle of papers in his hand.

"My friend, Rik, will have access to any and all the services you have offered to me," Eucalypto said, continuing a conversation that had already been in progress. "Would you be so kind as to explain to him the terms of our contract?"

"Certainly," Rickle almost sniffled, "It seems that certain investments that the Stranglethorn Trust previously thought were...uhm...remaindered...have been accounted for. Certain prominent families..."

At this point, Eucalypto carefully touched his knife. It seems a point of discussion had been the use of his identity. Just because it was in the contract doesn't mean it had to be on display.

"...have been unable to claim their vast investments for some time. However, the Venture Company has made a pledge to honor the interests of its shareholders. In exchange for keeping this account in trust with the party of the first part, that being the Stranglethorn Trust Bank, will extend all credit and hospitality to the party of the second part, that being the Guildmaster of DVS. The executor of which is one Rik, Druid of the Stone Totem Clan of Mulgore.

Sign here, please."

Rik was annoyed at being expected to make his mark with such a flimsy little instrument, especially since his hands were trembling a bit. He didn't understand the finer details, but it seems that certain prominent families from Lordaeron had made considerable investments in the Venture Company. In recent years, the company had proved to be a success, and the investments had shot through the roof. In a single day, however, virtually all of these investors had disappeared. All but one, it seems.

So, Eucalypto was the last surviving heir not only of his family's fortune but the fortunes of many families. They had invested their money as a group, perhaps as an extended family. That part didn't really matter. What did matter was that Eucalytpo's fortune was so vast that the bank and the Venture Company couldn't pay him. So he had a line of credit and probably a controlling interest in both the bank and the mining company.

And there was something else...oh no. Now he understood the look on Eucalypto's face. He had been laughing at him.

Thanking the goblins profusely, Rik pulled Eucalypto aside, back out into the open boardwalk.

"DVS?" He exclaimed. "What kind of guild name is that? Do you think that just because you paid for it, you can name the guild?"

"Yes," Eucalypto said frankly. "I do. I had a vision! And I'll tell you all about it over a civilized dinner."

"Well...well..." Rik was a little overwhelmed, "we have a guild, do we?"

"You're welcome," Eucalypto said with a confidant smile. He paused and looked out over the ocean, then took his cigarette case out of his pocket. It crossed Rik's mind that he hadn't seen Eucalypto smoking yet today, and the case seemed curiously empty.

Eucalypto lit one and sighed sadly. Rik opened his mouth to ask about Hyzanthlay, but Eucalypto seemed to want to avoid that subject as well. He muttered something about an early lunch and turned away.

_Eucalypto; _

_The desert is covered with edible fools, whole towns of them. Not as much treasure as I expected, but the entertainment was priceless. _

_Those Dark Lady lackeys still won't let me past the Bulwark. Something about being spider food before I took my seventh step. _

_I hope you're keeping yourself busy. And how is Rik? Did that guild ever get started? _

_Hyzanthlay_


	96. Chapter 96

The cramped and depressing Undercity felt like a heavy weight upon Tiponi. It was as though the city itself was sucking out her air, and the stone and plagued earth above her might cave in at any moment, burying her with the undead. She needed some marginally fresher air.

The ruins of the capital city of Lordaeron were deserted. Broken statues and lampposts hinted at better days while the remnants of broken armor and blood stains were a constant reminder of the massacre that ended it all. Tiponi walked the grounds mourning the devastation that had claimed this land. She might not be a shaman or a druid, but as a Tauren she felt deeply connected to the earth, and it pained her to see so much death. The plants were dead husks. Like skeletal fingers the branches stretched their leafless limbs, as if begging. The earth itself seemed blackened, the plague of undeath had corrupted the soil as well as the living. Those that hadn't succumbed to undeath had been threatened with starvation... So much hurt, and death. No wonder the Forsaken behaved as they did. They had lost everything, even who they once were, and now they had to make do as best as they could. She felt pity for them.

In her random wandering Tiponi had entered a small courtyard. The empty beds hinted at a long dead garden, but nothing was left but rotting stumps. A forsaken woman was sitting on a bench staring at one of the flowerbeds. She wore what might have once been a white dress but it was torn and stained with dirt. She held so still it was no wonder Tiponi had not noticed her at first. She was as still as Lordaeron's lost heroes wrought in stone.

"Oh, hello there." Tiponi greeted her, "Forgive me for interrupting." Still the woman made no move. Tiponi edged closer. This one was far more rotten than Hyzanthlay, with holes in her face and arms showing her decaying muscles. Her hair hung limply in dregs about her face save for around the very large hole in the back of her skull. Tiponi swallowed, she mustn't stare lest she offend the poor woman. "Ahem, hello? Are you all right?" She sat on the bench next to her, the rusting metal creaked under the strain but it did not give way, much to Tiponi's relief. "My name is Tiponi."

The Forsaken woman finally moved. Her action was unnatural, one moment she faced the flowerbed, the next her head snapped to face Tiponi. The Tauren cringed, maybe Forsaken had to practise to make their movements look more natural. "Name?" her voice creaked and a plume of dust escape from her throat. "I have... forgotten mine."

"Oh I'm so sorry," Tiponi tried to comfort the woman, "That must happen a lot, considering you've lost half your head and all." Ack! Wrong thing to say. Tiponi clasped her hands immediately to her mouth. "No, I meant..."

The woman's arms stiffly reached to the back of her head to feel the hole. Her face was unmoving until she held her hands in front of her eyes. As she examined her rotting hands her expression grew anxious. "What has happened to me?" she croaked.

Realisation began to dawn on Tiponi; maybe this was a new Forsaken. She certainly didn't look...fresh. "Look, I don't think I'm the best person to talk to about this. I could find another of your kind, one who knows more about the undead." Tiponi began to back away but the woman grabbed at her arm with undying strength. It seemed to be broken in two places, but that didn't hamper her.

"Please, no undead." The woman begged, and Tiponi saw something she had never seen in the eyes of any Forsaken before, fear.

"It's alright." Tiponi soothed her, sitting back down. "They're not all evil. Some of my best friends are Forsaken. I should get you to talk to them."

"I hate undead." The woman said, "I can't remember anything but that, and the gardens."

"Gardens?" Tiponi asked, enthusiastically latching onto the diversion of topic. "That's good, what gardens? What else do you remember?"

"Nothing. Death. I'm dead and the dead should stay dead. I remember nothing, just darkness." She shrugged her shoulders and Tiponi noticed that the movements were already becoming more fluid. "I think I was human once?" Tiponi nodded in encouragement. "I loved gardens. I would tend the flowers and love them as if they were my children." The woman's sigh was more like a groan. "It was dark for so long, like a dreamless sleep, a living nightmare. I dreamt of killing and of death. Now suddenly the darkness has begun to lift, but I find myself in a new nightmare. Tell me, Tiponi, is it? Where have all the flowers gone?"

Tiponi looked around her, at the lifeless shell of the dead garden. She bit her lip slightly. "Gone to graveyards, every one... The plague that created the undead, it poisoned the land as well. I... I don't think there are any flowers left in Tirisfal."

The undead bowed her head and began to weep. "I must have done something terribly evil to be cursed so..."

"No," Tiponi murmured putting her hand on the Forsaken's back and trying not to cringe when she felt the exposed tissues through the rotting cloth. "You'll be fine..."


	97. Chapter 97

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Tiponi had been so focused on the undead woman that she didn't realize that someone else had walked into the garden. A familiar smell, of burning mageroyal, made her turn her head.

"Ah, greetings, warrior," Hyzanthlay grinned. "I thought that might be you."

The Warlock looked like she had taken a long journey through a windswept desert. Dust covered her clothes, which were rather worn as if my blowing sand or excessive riding. Hyzanthlay took a long draw from her ubiquitous cigar and nodded silently towards the stricken undead.

"She...seems disoriented," Tiponi didn't know how to describe her plight. "Can you...help her?"

Hyzanthlay's orbs rolled from the Tauren to the undead, who was kneeling, almost crouching, by an empty flower bed. She seemed to think for a moment, then nodded decisively. She stepped forward and handed Tiponi the burning cigar as if to say, Hold this.

Tiponi didn't have time to open her mouth to ask what Hyzanthlay was planning on doing. The Warlock took two steps toward the stricken undead, drew her sword, and with a single swift and heartless swipe, removed her porous head from her rotting neck.

The body slumped into the loose dirt. Hyzanthlay seemed more concerned with cleanliness than respect as she gathered up the head and tossed it into the flower bed as well. Tiponi was a bit shocked, and stood motionless as Hyzanthlay scattered something from her bag over the body.

"Firebloom," she explained, "very flammable." She took the cigar from Tiponi and tossed it carelessly behind her and the unhappy bundle burst into flames.

"I asked if you could help," Tiponi said resentfully.

"I did," Hyzanthlay took a moment to regard the Tauren, who was wearing new armor and seemed to be taller. "That's some fine new armor. Did Eucalypto help you with that?" And it was her turn to sound resentful.

"He did," Tiponi said glumly, twitching her nose as the bundle started to smoke. "He and Rik are in Booty Bay. Don't you know? I assumed you two would be..."

Hyzanthlay waved her hand angrily and bore her sharp yellow teeth.

"I send him the occasional correspondence," she sneered, "but for a creature like Eucalypto, I am little more than novelty. He tells me little or nothing; a natural habit of rogues, I would think. More of a loyal customer than..." she touched the herb pouch at her side and her voice trailed off.

"But...I thought..." Tiponi began, stepping away from the acrid smell. The smoke was billowing from the corpse now. Of course, it didn't bother the Warlock.

"For a warrior, you think far too much," Hyzanthlay sneered. "Did you know that the Scarlet Monastery has an armory?"

Tiponi' raised an eyebrow and the Warlock smiled.

"Yes, think of that," she said, as she turned away. "Rows of plate and steel, and it will be yours for the taking. I will go soon, and I will call upon you if you desire. Prepare yourself!"

Hyzanthlay continued on her way, to the ruins of Lordaeron and Undercity, leaving the Tauren warrior in the ruined garden, surrounded by wisps of putrid smoke.


	98. Chapter 98

A lone figure stood solemnly in the cemetery in Brill as the rain blanketed the land. Tiponi rose from the simple gravestone, marked with no name and only its freshly turned soil marking it from the others. Her tears had long since ceased to flow. There was only so much she could take before it all seemed pointless. Everything was wrong. First there was that horrible business in Stranglethorn, and now this... just when she thought that she might be able to help someone, to do something right for a change. Tiponi shook her heavy head. She felt different, hollow inside. At first she had wanted to turn on Hyzanthlay for the poor woman's murder, but after the initial shock had faded she realised she might have had a point. The Forsaken's ways of dealing with their kind were not a Tauren's concern. Perhaps the kindest course of action was the one Hyzanthlay had chosen. And yet Tiponi felt wretched. She still yearned to do something, if only to quiet her guilty conscience. Looking down at the grave, Tiponi's mouth tightened. It had a simple plain stone slab to mark its presence. No name, no kind words from family or friends. Nothing to remember this woman by, not even a name. She nodded to herself, strengthening her resolve. If nothing else, she would find a flower to mark this woman's grave. It was the very least she could do.


	99. Chapter 99

The grass squelched wetly under Tiponi's hooves as she walked through Tirisfal Glades. It was a pretty name for a place, one that hinted at a better time and lost beauty, but that time was long gone. The earth was dead and supported little life. Patches of yellow and sickly green grass struggled to survive and the remaining trees were twisting in their death throes. Once again Tiponi found herself wishing that she had been blessed with the skill to heal this land and its people, like the druids or shamans of her kind. If only she could do _something_ to aid them. She felt impotent in the face of so much destruction. She could face her enemies with spear and blade, but against disease, starvation and death she was useless.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied something- a flash of white amid the dying flora. Scampering over with glee she saw a small, white-petalled flower. She recognised the plant immediately, her people called it Leotie, the Flower of the Prairie, but its more common name was Peacebloom. The Shu'halo used the plant as a cooking spice, as well as in medicines and poultices. It was perhaps their most commonly used herb. She plucked the delicate bloom carefully, rejoicing in her luck, when she saw another bloom in the distance.

Before too long she had filled her cloak with Leotie blooms. She knelt at another blossom, growing out of the parched ground like the Earthmother's miracle that it was, when her hand brushed the parchment-like skin of a skeletal hand. She recoiled in horror, spilling her flowers onto the ground as she instinctively reached for her weapon. She had reached for the flower at the same moment as another Forsaken had, a woman with a thick mop of green tinged hair. It looked like her lower lip had been chewed through. Tiponi immediately averted her eyes.

"Forgive me, I'm sorry. I didn't realise there was anyone else here." Tiponi mumbled.

The woman's skin was broken and torn across her features. It definitely looked like some animal had eaten away her face, but she still was able to speak more or less comprehensively. "No tlouble at all. It's good to see a fellow alchemitht, even a Taulen at that."

Tiponi took only a moment to interpret the woman. "Oh, I'm not an alchemist. My name's Tiponi, I'm just... uh... collecting flowers for a friend."

The woman cocked her head. One hand was holding her dress out before her, full of Leotie flowers but she extended the other to shake hands with Tiponi. "Carolai Anithe, but I muth athk, if you dethire flowerth why pick Peathbloom? They ahh a weed. Grow all oveh they do, even in this wot."

"A weed?" Tiponi asked crestfallen. She supposed different peoples must indeed place different values on flowers. The Shu'halo might value Leotie for its versatility and usefulness, but it certainly wasn't rare or difficult to grow. Perhaps the Forsaken wouldn't consider this a flower at all. Her last gesture to this woman would be an insult if she could only bring her a weed. She slumped down into the dirt, crushing many of her fallen blossoms with her backside. "Then it's true, there are no flowers in Tirisfal..."

Carolai smiled, it was a horrible half-smile showing far more teeth and gum than Tiponi had cared to see. "Not quite twue. Theh ah flowerth sthill but they ah dangelous and difficult to get to."

Tiponi looked up the woman. "Not a problem."

"Tha humanth thcum maintain a thanctum. They call it the Thcarleth Monethary. The planth thill grow green there in a malvellous gahden, but their keeperth hate uth with thlenzied zeal. It won't be easy."

Tiponi stood and brushed the dirt from her tattered leather armor. "Did you say the Scarlet Monestary?" When the woman nodded Tiponi whispered under her breath, _"Hyzanthlay."_


	100. Chapter 100

The dust trailed behind Kwahu as his paws drummed the hard packed earth of Tirisfal Glades. He had traced his sister to the lands of the undead, but had since lost her trail. His new form, the sleek cheetah enabled him to race across the land almost as fast as a kodo on the charge. But it was to no avail if he had no lead on Tiponi.

Dusk was settling over the land. The Forsaken retreated to their homes like the rotten shambling corpses that they were. He bared his new long sabre fangs in a grimace. Cairne was a fool to enter into a union with these monsters. When an animal grew sick, you culled it so that it would not affect the herd. When weeds grew rampant you burned them to the ground to enable new life to bloom. Instead these Forsaken were allowed to run unchecked. They should have been excised from the Horde like a putrid amputated limb. For now they were a liability, and an unnecessary one. He tried not to gag as the stench of rot filled his nostrils. As he entered the Forsaken village he shifted back to his natural Shu'halo form so that his senses would not be so enhanced. Even so he had to force himself not to retch.

He would need to talk to one of them, a Tauren female should have stood out amid the decrepit masses had she been here, but he dreaded the thought of talking to a corpse. Luckily he spied a goblin headed to the zeppelin tower. He would suit perfectly, goblins were greedy little creatures who would sell the Earthmother for a copper piece. He handed the goblin a fistful of silver.

"I'm looking for my sister, I heard tell she was here. Have you seen a Tauren woman?"

The little green man examined the coin in his hand and grimaced as if offended by the offering. "There was a Tauren girl here, she might be the one you're after. She took The Purple Princess to Stranglethorn."

Kwahu grabbed the goblin by the shoulders and shook him. "Was it her? Was it Tiponi?! She's short, pale fur..."

The goblin coughed when the shaking stopped and held out his hand for more coin.

"GREEDY WHELP!" Kwahu roared and called to the spirit of the great bear to take his form. His fury was as endless as the bear's and he lowered his still-prominent horns level to the green midget's throat.

The goblin yelped and threw up his hands. "No! Don't kill me! I wasn't there, I didn't see her. Go... Go to the tavern in Brill. Ask for Du'una, she a troll Watcher aboard the –urk!"

Kwahu's reformed hand cut of the goblin's cries as it closed around his neck. "If you mislead me, I will come back for you." He let him drop to the ground and the pitiful creature quickly scurried away. Kwahu steeled himself to enter the Forsaken inn.

It was as he had feared, the stench of decay permeated the air, he had to cover his nose to breathe. As he entered, dozens of unnatural eyes turned upon him and he straightened to his full height as he addressed the undead scum.

"I seek Du'una, the troll."

The crowd turned back to their meagre business without a word, and a troll woman stood up at the edge of the bar. She had dark hair plaited in braids and the ugliest face wrapped around a pair of tusks he had even seen.

"I be Du'una." She answered, beckoning him over as she sat back down.

The crowd was forced apart as he approached the bar, refusing the tiny stool he chose to stand looming over the troll. "I am looking for my sister, Tiponi." He spoke very slowly in case she was as stupid as the rest of her trollish cousins. "She is young, pale fur, dark mane, green eyes. She might have boarded your airship."

The troll woman took her time to finish her drink, then looked him up and down without subtlety. She grinned and spoke, "Tiponi you say? No mon, never met her."


	101. Chapter 101

Tiponi held her breath as she twisted her body to tighten the last strap. When it was secure she sagged, panting heavily. The straps of her new armor were in difficult to reach places, and the plate itself was substantially heavier than the leather armor she was used to. Still, it fit perfectly, she admitted as she admired herself in the full length mirror. A curtain of long, mottled cloth hid her from the denizens of Undercity as they went about their business. Their footfalls and shouts mingled with the hissing, clanging noises of the blacksmith shop. Not so long ago she might have been overwhelmed with the cacophony of sound, now it lingered on the edge of her perception, just background noise. The suit of armor was everything Mirelle had promised and more. It was heavy, but it allowed a greater freedom of movement than she had initially expected. The plates of metal fit over one another perfectly, and slid smoothly over their surfaces, such that when she raised her arm a ripple of metal plates shifted with her movement. It was heavy, but she would grow accustomed to that. She spun around in a small circle marvelling at the craftsmanship. It was unadorned except for a small shield stamp with the initials M.T; Mirelle's mark, and it had stylized horn engravings on the breast plate. _It was made just for me_. Tiponi felt giddy with joy.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and her warrior's honed reflexes instantly had her tensed and searching for the source. She spun about her little cubicle, but there was barely any room to move. There was nothing on this side of the curtain but herself, and the mirror. She turned slowly towards the mirror and gasped at what she saw. It seemed as though there was a heavy mist on the other side of the glass, obscuring her reflection. Tiponi instinctively reached to her side for her dagger, but it was gone -she had left it outside while trying on the armor. The fog was so thick, it masked her refection as a shadow hidden behind swirling purple licks of mist. It was completely silent now, Tiponi could hear only the blood in her ears. She wanted to run, to get away or find help, but she could not draw her gaze from the mirror. Something stirred on the other side. The shadow was not her reflection at all, it was something greater, and malicious. It began to reach for her, through the mirror's surface. Tiponi begged her legs to move, but she was rooted to the spot. A deep, resonating voice echoed through her head, "YOU ARE MINE." She wished she could scream.

"Everything all right in there dear?" Mirelle's voice called.

Tiponi shook her head, and looked around. She was wearing a fancy suit of plate armor, Mirelle had made it for her. She was trying it on, but why was she sitting on the ground? It seemed as though her memory was clouded. She tried to remember what she had been thinking about but it was lost like seeds in the wind. "I'm fine thanks, I think I'm done." She replied. As she walked out from behind the curtain, the questions that lingered about her strange experience were instantly forgotten.


	102. Chapter 102

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay glumly followed the messenger to the Royal Quarter, her ragged fishing hat pulled low over her eyes. Hopefully Strellabelle wouldn't be here. She didn't feel like "donating" the proceeds from her desert adventure to the Clan of the Fallen. She smiled to herself, thinking of how impressed Eucalypto would be when she told him about it.

She winced and twitched her nose with annoyance as they began to walk down the long corridor. She was very careful who she spoke to about it, but there was always had the faint stench of night elf hanging about this part of Undercity. Of course, she wasn't about to ask why.

The undead guards saluted her and their compatriot as they swept into the Royal Chamber. The guard fell to one knee before the Queen of the Undead, and Hyzanthlay, after a rather withering look from the nearby Dreadlord, reluctantly did the same.

"I have brought you Hyzanthlay, of the Clan of the Fallen, my Queen," the messenger said. Without waiting for a reply or even looking at her face, he slowly rose, saluted and backed away.

Hyzanthlay had noticeably winced when the messenger had introduced her using the guild name. If Strellabelle was not here, certainly another representative of the Clan would be. She stared fixedly at the floor, waiting stubbornly to be addressed.

"Hyzanthlay," Sylvanas finally said. "You died in Andorhol, were you not?"

Hyzanthlay bit her lip. How did she know that? Hyzanthlay herself wasn´t even sure. What else did she know?

"Yes, my Queen," she replied, and added nothing about her doubts.

"It is my understanding that you lurk in Duskwood, even in Elwynn. Is this not true?"

You know damn well it's true, Hyzanthlay wanted to spit. She had visited Duskwood frequently since her first encounter with man she had nicknamed "Torch Boy". She had made a few forays into light and leafy Elwynn as well. What was the Queen wondering about? Her visits to the Apothecary tower, her business with those shadey gnomes, or perhaps the partnership she had struck up with that scruffy little dog?

Instead she answered calmly;

"Indeed, it is, my most Esteemed Lady," she answered, her glowing orbs practically burning the stones beneath her into embers.

There was a moment of tense silence. The Queen seemed to be thinking. Then she stepped forward, so the toe of her boot was just under Hyzanthlay's forehead.

"Rise, Warlock," she said. Hyzanthlay did so, and when they were at eye level she spoke again.

"Something in Duskwood troubles me," she said, her voice cold.

The orbs of Sylvanas' eyes were not the same as those of the other undead. They were not yellow but greyish blue, and her pupils were nearly visible. It was almost as if she still had eyes.

"It must be dread indeed, to trouble your Ladyship," Hyzanthlay smiled with mock politeness.

"Even my power is not absolute," the Queen said severely. "There are traitors among us, Hyzanthlay. There is a priest you will seek out in Duskwood. Her name is Sorena. I am suspicious that she has been consorting with members of the Alliance, and that she may turn on us."

Sylvanas turned away and walked back a few steps, as if pacing. Then she turned back and snarled,

"I have no time for games. Seek the priest, and report to me. If she is a traitor, she will discover a fate worse than undeath. Now, go!"

Hyzanthlay bowed low, and backed up a few steps before turning away. The Dreadlord laughed at her softly as she walked quickly out of the throne room. She avoided cutting her orbs at him as she scurried off. Even as powerful as she was, she did not have the might to face a Dreadlord. At least not yet. Her anger was tempered by the sinking feeling that the warning Sylvanas had issued regarding traitors was really meant for her, not this 'Sorena.'


	103. Chapter 103

The Postal Services in the Undercity considered of a very tall and long corridor which was not accessible to the general public. Tiponi leaned over the counter to get a better view of the shelving stretching high up the walls, covered in dusty letters and packages with a swarm of goblins scurrying between tall sliding ladders. She could not from her vantage point see the ceiling.

"Next?" asked the goblin absent-mindedly. His skin was a bright green and his large nose and ears were bristling with long spiky hairs.

Tiponi waved to get his attention, he seemed to be ignoring the fact that there was a very large tauren balanced precariously over his counter-top. "Hi, I'm waiting on a package, from Mulgore."

He sniffed and raised his eyes to her, then asked in the same monotone, "Name?"

"Tiponi Darkmane."

Suddenly the goblin became more animated. His hand rose to clasp his throat seemingly of its own accord and his eyes widened. "Ti-Tiponi did you say? Yes, just a moment."

Tiponi absent-mindedly scratched herself as the goblin disappeared into the busy crowd amid the shelves. He reappeared not long after carrying a small package (small for her at least, the little man needed both arms to lift it). He levered it onto the counter and produced a handful of paperwork. He eyed her over the rims of his glasses as he gestured to the parchment. "Sign here, and here. Date here."

Tiponi was aware that the goblin continued to study her as she fumbled with the tiny quill. Inelegantly balling it into her fist she marked her symbol, and the goblin hurriedly snatched it back. As she left with her package she heard the goblin burst out into maniacal laughter. She gritted her teeth, _I am sick of not being in on the joke_. She could have strangled the little wretch.

As she made her way out of the city, she resisted opening the package to check the contents. It was important that it was not exposed to the elements. The waxed cloth covering seemed secure enough.

The rain had eased and the sun lit a gloomy haze across the skies of Tirisfal. Tiponi carried the parcel under one arm and a small bundle under the other. Her plate armor felt almost a part of her skin now, she was barely aware of its weight and movement as she trekked northward. She considered the solemnity of the task ahead. Normally the ritual was performed by tribal elders in front of one's entire clan and family. She felt a little guilty taking on the task herself as if she was stepping above her station, but she was resolved to the fact that it couldn't be helped. There were few Shu'halo in Tirisfal, and none that she felt close to enough for this.

She finally reached her chosen location. A slight breeze stirred over the cliffs bringing with it the scent of decay that she had come to ignore. Peering over the rocky ledge she saw the tiny figures of plagued murlocs frolicking along the coastline. She smiled and raised her arms to the hazy sun. It was time.

Piece by piece she stripped off her armor. She didn't bother looking around to see if she was alone, the area was remote enough. Besides this ritual was not about pride or shame. Once she was completely naked except for the fur she was born with, she grabbed her carved boned knife and sliced apart the package. A painful longing filled her as the scents of Mulgore met her nostrils. She inhaled deeply then set to work. She ground the powders and herbs, mixing them with pure water. The ochre she mixed separately in a small wooden bowl next to the small pile of Leotie blossoms. In the centre she prepared a fire, striking her flint and thanking the Earthmother that the rain had ceased. She then sat still for a moment, trying to still her mind. She was excited, and her heart pounded frantically. She tried to slow it, and to think of nothing but her duty and her accomplishments. She took a deep breath.

"I am no longer a child, as of this day I am the Earthmother's honoured and respectful Daughter."

It had been so long since she had spoken Taurahe, and the slow, open words felt wonderful upon her tongue. She smiled and reached for the herbal concoction. She drank it deeply, trying not to squint at the bitter taste. She then applied the ochre to her body. It would have paid to have a helper here, she considered, to help reach those hard to get places. It was no matter now. After a few minutes her body was covered in an intricate painted pattern. She picked up the tiny wooden pipe and inhaled deeply, then she coughed and spluttered as the smoke filled her lungs. Her head swam a bit and she laughed, she would have to get used to this! Finally she unwrapped the other bundle she had carried and beheld the ruined leather within. The broken armor meant a lot to her. It was her mother's and her grandmother's before that, but now it represented growing up. She tossed it into the fire with a laugh. She took another slower breath from the pipe and held the smoke in her lungs for a short time before exhaling.

The herbs became to make the fire appear a shimmering rainbow of colours. As her old armor burned, Tiponi collected the handfuls of Leotie blossoms and scattered them around herself and over the cliff. The waves crashed against the rocks like a beating drum and the fire burned bright with spiritual energy. Tiponi swayed with the rhythm and beauty of the moment. The words themselves were not important, only their meaning, and it was customary to speak from your heart instead of preparing a speech. As the water splashed crystal droplets in the air and the sun shone in bright sparks of colour Tiponi began to sing. It was a low and slow melody in Taurahe and it carried mournfully across the Glades of Tirisful, though none there could fathom its meaning.

"Now the sun is setting low, na'eye lana heya 'eye  
Though we still have far to wander, na'eye lana heya 'eye, holaghei.  
Sleep my little one and rest your eyes.  
We will never have a home,  
But do not cry my little one, because your clan is near na'eye lana heya 'eye  
And the plains hold fast my heart na'eye lana heya 'eye, holaghei."


	104. Chapter 104

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Azeroth Post

Eucalypto;

I have been sent on an errand by none other than the Dark Lady herself. Thankfully this pesky task won't take me too far out of my way. I am looking for an undead priest by the name of Sorena. If you have word of her, I will compensate you handsomely for it. There is plenty more Kingsblood where this came from, and quite a few new ones as well. The Dreamfoil is exceptional. Do enjoy it.  
Hyzanthlay

Azeroth Post

Hyzanthlay;

It is quite serendipitous that you have asked me about Sorena. I will explain this later. For now it will suffice to say that you will most likely find her in Duskwood. She lurks near a little farmhouse south of Darkshire, near the Tranquil Gardens.

Thank you very kindly for the herbal remedies. I look forward to enjoying them, along with your esteemed company, after a civilized dinner.

Yours in darkness,  
Eucalypto


	105. Chapter 105

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

The journey south took a few days. Hyzanthlay had a lot to do and used the time to plan. Since she suspected that she was being followed herself, she decided to start with some fairly innocent herb gathering in the Swamp of Sorrows. This was also an opportune place to check to see if there was word from Eucalypto. As it happened, there was. She read his short note with interest. She had been thinking to ask her friends at the tower about this Sorena, but the information that the rogue has sent her was adequate. She was glad to skip the independent-minded apothecaries for now, as a visit to them would have been suspicious.

Elwynn was unpleasant enough, but it was much worse in the daytime, and no threat from a smelly undead queen was going to keep her from conducting her personal business. She had an appointment that she didn't intend to miss. As long as she didn't have to spend too much time looking for Sorena, she could move east and arrive in time. But first, she had to see to her errand.

She found the farmhouse without any difficulty. Grave Moss was a rare herb and not used often, but when she did need it, there was always some here. A few mindless zombies and skeletons wandered among the shabby gravestones, but they never ventured outside the gate and were of little danger to anyone, even a blundering novice. Occasionally a human would show up and use them as target practise, but tonight it was quiet.

Hyzanthlay waited nearby, but her vantage point high in a nearby tree saw to it that she was out of sight. She didn't use her Eye of Kilrogg spell often, as she liked to catch her enemies up close. Not even a fellow undead was likely to notice the small, green orb that floated above the highest beam of the cottage roof. Lidless, unaffected by dark or shadow, it could see any movement anywhere near the dark little farm.

There was no light in the cottage windows, but the place was obviously not abandoned. A small herb and vegetable garden outside were well tended, and the creeping vines on the stone walls had been dutifully pruned. Nothing to do now but wait.

In her idle moments, Hyzanthlay's dark thoughts wandered. She deeply resented Sylvanas for turning her into a slinking spy. The Dark Lady must have known this was outside her usual realm of expertise. Had the undead Queen already decided on her guilt? Any fool could have come here to follow this bloody priest. Perhaps this errand was really a set-up, and the real assasins were simply waiting for her to show up. The did not displease her in the slightest. It would mean some real action instead of this silliness.

A high, clear note, almost like birdsong, cut through the gloomy night. No, it was not a bird; it sounded like singing. A movement in the graveyard, clearly not one of the mindless zombies, shimmered and flowed over the ground. In a moment, Hyzanthlay recognized the form of an undead female, and from her robes and the mace at her side, it was a priest.

Hello, Sorena, Hyzanthlay thought.

Yes, she was singing, and slowly moving closer to the house as she did so. The green orb glowed faintly, taking the scene in. The priest drew closer to the cottage. Perhaps she was luring out the hapless victims within, to be murdered and eaten. Hyzanthlay licked her lips in anticipation.

She crossed the arched threshold and walked into the garden, where she stopped an knelt on the ground amoung the herbs and flowers. The cottage door opened a crack. The green orb twitched and spun but remained invisible.

A small child, perhaps three years old, peered out into the garden. In one hand he clutched a ragged blankie, the other hand was clenched into a fist that he had jammed in his mouth. Even from her vantage point high in the tree, Hyzanthlay would have been able to see the whites of his huge eyes.

Sorena raised her head and opened her arms. The little boy toddled across the garden as fast as his stubby legs would carry him. He dropped his little blanket and fell into her embrace.

Interesting technique, thought the mind behind the green orb. Wouldn't suit me, that's for sure. What will she do now, eat him? Not much of a meal.

She continued to sing softly, and the spy could no longer hear her. But she could see her carefully pick up the blanket, shake the dirt out, and wrap the drowsy child up. She then placed his sleeping body in a rocking chair by the house, which moved gently as she sang the last few notes.

The last few notes made Hyzanthlay want to gag. She wasn't sure what Sorena was doing, but it was making her extremely uncomfortable. The Warlock decided she had seen enough, and snuffed out the Eye like a candle. She quietly moved towards Darkshire, and decided to tell the Queen little or nothing of what she had seen. She couldn't explain it anyways, and didn't care if the Dreadlord himself smacked her around. Reducing her to hiding in treetops like a rogue...or worse...an elf!

She spat on the ground with contempt.


	106. Chapter 106

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay had never gone looking for the dog. It always seemed to find her as long as she was fairly close to Darkshire.

The first time she had seen her without her master, she had been gathering herbs near the small city, just like she was doing tonight. The dog had quietly walked up to her, sniffing carefully. Upon seeing her, Hyzanthlay had carefully drawn her sword, moving slowly so as not to spook the creature. Slaying this dog would be a boon to any undead that travelled through Duskwood. Her orbs flickered around, quickly and thoroughly taking in her surroundings. It seemed odd that Torch Boy was nowhere to be seen.

The dog looked up at her with large, dark eyes, that strangely enough, seemed to dance for joy as she approached. It's tail wagged in frenzied happiness. Poor foolish creature, the warlock thought. I'll make it clean...and quiet. It was rather a pity that animals never tasted quite like humans.

Suddenly, the dog spun in a happy circle, leapt to the side, scampered to the base of a nearby tree, and starting digging fiercely among the tangled roots. Hyzanthlay was still holding her sword firmly, ready to strike at anytime, but her curiosity got the better of her and she hesitated.

The dog stopped digging, poked her snout into the shallow hole she had dug, and took a few short sniffs as if to confirm the find. Then she sat back on her haunches, ears forward, eying the warlock with enthusiastic confidence.

Still brandishing her sword in case the dog decided to set off an alarm after all, Hyzanthlay slowly knelt next to the dirt and examined the find. It was Earthroot; not rare but fairly useful. And there seemed to be something else as well. No, it couldn't be!

Ghost mushrooms!

Hyzanthlay was amazed. Such a rare thing, and to find them here! She had last seen them in the caves of Mauradon, when she had helped a party of trolls and tauren take revenge on a centaur stronghold. One of the trolls had mentioned there were some in the Hinterlands as well, far to the north, in a place that she herself had not yet ventured. The animal had proven her usefulness, and so far there had been no followers and no alarm. She smiled, and sheathed her sword.

"Good dog," she rasped, and reached out to touch the dog's head. The little creature's tail wagged happily, and when the warlock rose up and tapped her leg, she fell in step immediately.

Thus began their occasional herb hunts in Duskwood. Every time Hyzanthlay visited the dark, lonely woods, the little dog would find her. She would have been reluctant to admit it, but the sight of the little dog pleased her, and she went out of her way (sometimes even waiting near the city) to let the little creature find her. And there was never any sign of Torch Boy. In fact, the little animal seemed to get scruffier and leaner each time she saw her, and Hyzanthlay couldn't help but wonder if something had happened to him or he had abandoned her.

Tonight she seemed a bit better than usual. It was logical to think that others would pick up her owner's slack whenever possible, as the animal was friendly and generally well-behaved. The warlock was one of these, of course; sharing her meagre edibles and seeing to it that her coat was fairly clean. She told herself that she did it as an investment. There were those that stood to pay well for the rare plants the dog could find.

This lead into her next errand, for which she would have to travel east, to Elwynn. She would not go there during the day. The bright light seemed to burn her skin. Perhaps on a dark rainy day, she would chance it. But the clear, starry sky did not show a hint of rain. She had sent word that she would meet them at night, by the crossroads. She hadn't specified what time, but her customers were anxious to purchase her wares, anxious enough to wait in the dark all night for an undead warlock. Before she left, she tossed her furry friend a few scraps of fish, which she gobbled up gratefully.


	107. Chapter 107

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

I think we should get off the road." One of the gnomes was getting nervous. The wind whistled menacingly along the cobblestones, sending a whirlwind of leaves into their faces.

His three companions ignored him. They had found some succulent funghi and were distracted from their jittery companion. But he could hear unmistakable hoofbeats approaching them, and the thought of a dreadsteed galloping towards them through the dark got the better of his nerve.

"Get off the road!" He exclaimed, jumping behind a nearby tree. "Quick!"

His friends finally took the hint, and scrambled into hiding with him, still whispering to each other about the succulents that they had found. What finally hushed them was the fiery snort of a warlock mount, and the unmistakable hiss of an undead's raspy breath.

She stopped by the tree, and it almost sounded like she was sniffing the air. Then she dismissed her beast, and reached past the trunk and roots. The gnomes froze, thinking that she was going to grab one and eat them as a snack!

They all exhaled with relief when she reached past them and ripped a few fragrant herbs from the ground. She turned her head, revealing a grey and yellow scarred face, and grinned at them wickedly.

"'You...you're the Warlock?" One of them asked, cautiously standing up.

The undead female put the herbs away in her pack and bowed in acknowledgment. Then she reached into another, much larger pack and produced three large bags. She threw two of them on the ground, and the third she set down with considerable more care.

"Kingsblood, of course," one of the gnomes said, examining the first bag. "It's more then decent as far as quality goes, anyway. Shouldn't be tough to move."

"Dreamfoil!" The second gnome exclaimed. "And Steelbloom! This stuff is tough to come by!"

"This is what we were waiting for," the first gnome said, carefully examining the third bag. "Firebloom, and still highly volatile."

"Firebloom!" One of them hissed, than lowered his voice, "our engineers are going to have a field day with this!"

He was quickly shushed by his companions, one of which was already counting out a sizable amount of gold for their unwelcome guest, which he carefully handed it to the undead warlock . She held the bag of coin in the palm of her hand, savouring its weight, her smile widening to show rows of pointed teeth.

Without a reply, she summoned her felsteed. The gnomes (at least the ones that weren't distracted by the bags she had left) slowly backed away. She didn't return to the road, but instead drove her flaming mount into dark woods.


	108. Chapter 108

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Eucalypto was checking his mail frequently these days. Guild recruitment was keeping him busy. On this particular early morning he had a pile of mail in front of him at the breakfast table. Both he and Rik were shifting through it. One rather fat envelope caught Rik's attention. It was from the priest; Rik had not met her yet, but Eucalypto was quite taken with her. An accomplished engineer, apparently.

"Shadow, I assume," Rik said in a bland voice. He had yet to meet an undead priest who focused exclusively on healing. It was naturally difficult for the undead to dabble in the Light. "We need more healers, Euc."

"She does heal," Euc replied, pretending not to notice Rik raise one of his furry eyebrows. He didn't have time for a follow-up question, as the chunky little envelope suddenly made a funny noise.

Rik sniffed it, and tilted his head back in surprise when it made the noise again. Eucalypto laughed, then reached forward and opened the envelope. A small machine fell out. The way it buzzed and flashed reminded him of something a gnome would design.

"Ah, what they can't build these days," Eucalypto said. "Here, let me show you how this works."

Rik watched with rapt curiosity as Eucalypto touched one of the flashing buttons. The annoying noise stopped repeating, and when he held it up to his face and started to speak into it, the Druid realized it was some kind of communication device.

"Greetings, my dear! How good it is to..." Eucalypto's voice turned from cheerful to dour. "Oh, well that is a shame. Are you...in some trouble?"

There was a tense pause. Eucalypto's orbs flickered.

"Focus, Sorena. It's still a bit dark. You can make it if you stay on the rooftops. Now, stop wasting time talking to me."

Eucalypto pressed another button and put the device down. Rik waited for an explanation but the rogue didn't offer one. His cheerful mood had become nervous and unhappy.


	109. Chapter 109

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

At seven feet tall, Lafti was actually an average height for a Night Elf. It was the stark, ropey muscles, scars and tattoos that made the humans in Stormwind raise their eyebrows when she strode past. She wore an imposing double bladed axe that looked more like it was made for an orc. In truth, it had been; she had pried it from his cold, dead hands in Warsong Gulch and taken it for her own. Her companion, Zephe, was a hunter who had not suffered the ritualistic body scars that mark the militaristic Sentinels. With her bow, leather clothing and smooth purple skin, she was more of a typical night elf and drew attention for different reasons. On this early morning, she let Lafti lead. They would need the element of fear for the hunt they were on in this dark hour.

The area in question was in a dark corner of Stormwind's Trade District. The humans, in their usual arrogance, were notoriously lazy about keeping vigil on their city. True, Stormwind was well supplied and guarded, surrounded by thick walls and populated by any number of elite heroes all day, every day. The flagship city of the Alliance deserved no less. A Night Elf knew how quickly such fortunes could turn, however, especially one like Lafti. Behind her cold grey eyes was a memory almost ten thousand years old, and they hid a stark, merciless drive to hunt and destroy every threat to the survival of their ancient civilization. The relatively new enemies represented by the minions of the undead (both Scourge and the Forsaken), had been targeted by the Darnassian priests and druids as worthy of the Sentinels' attention. Lafti had grown tired of slaughtering trolls and orcs in the misty northern forests, and taking her fearlessness and vicious countenance into consideration, she had been sent the Eastern Kingdoms to face the undead.

And what better companion than a hunter, who could detect an undead within a few miles and could kill a blackfly with a single shot from a hundred feet away?

"She is here," Zephe whispered, as they neared the ramshackle house. Apparently, the city's security had been breached, and a Forsaken spy was hiding in a dank little room by the wall. No doubt a rogue, or one that had been helped by a rogue.

Lafti nodded, having no doubt that her friend was correct. The Stormwind guard had already been notified. A few guards were waiting outside. Their captain apprached Lafti and Zephe as they walked towards him. He puffed out his chest in a way that suggested he was about to tell the imposing Sentinel something she didn't want to hear.

"We're taking care of it," he said, proudly and stupidly. "I've sent my best men in already."

Zephe raised an eyebrow. Lafti narrowed her eyes, which had begun to glow fiercely.

"You were given very specific instructions, Captain." Lafti spoke Common with dull, flat tone that grated on the ears of most humans. "The orders were for your own protection."

The Captain replied to this with a mocking snort.

"I think we can handle one little undead girl," he said. Lafti seemed to ignore this. She turned to Zephe and said something in Darnassian. The hunter nodded calmly and started to prepare her bow. Lafti walked towards the dark doorway, past the Captain as if he wasn't even there.

"I said, I've sent my best men in already," he said in an annoyed voice. "They're bringing her down now."

"No, Captain," the Sentinal replied without looking back, "your men are already dead."


	110. Chapter 110

A faint breeze stirred a whirlwind of rotten leaves into frenzied flight. Cracked and mottled brown, a star-shaped leaf broke away from its cousins and flitted through the cool air. The cornfield below it, long since devoid of anything edible, shrank rapidly as the leaf rose on the breeze. Tumbling eastward, it flew above farmsteads long-abandoned and graves long-since empty, then it began to plummet downward. As it dropped to the ground it picked up again with one last burst of vigour like a dying man's grip. It fell, dropping suddenly like a stolen breath and became nestled not on the cold, dead ground, but in amongst the feathers of a tauren's mane.

Tiponi's hair was plaited now in a multitude of small braids covered in tiny colourful beads and feathers- a mark of her ascent into adulthood. She stood proudly as she surveyed the buildings from her vantage point. Despite her bulk and heavy armor, which no longer seemed to weigh her down, she had managed to scale the mountain beside the Scarlet Monastery and now kept a silent vigil. The wind picked up again and she ruffled loose a leaf that had become stuck in her hair. The humans below were a disciplined sort. They had regular rotated patrols, well kept arms and armor, and considerable numbers to contend with._This will not be easy._ It was a pity she hadn't been able to find Hyzanthlay or Eucalypto, she would have loved to have the help of her friends, but they seemed to disappear often of late.

The monastery was quite large, and from what she could see the grounds were indeed greener on the inside. _They must employ some sort of strange magic to keep the plague at bay_. She had to find out! If she could find the source of this magic, perhaps she could cure her friends of their affliction! _Won't they be so happily surprised?_ She smiled joyfully to herself as she imagined the look on Hyzanthlay's face. The warlock would smile- not in the wicked way she tended to when she was amused, but in true happiness. Tiponi's grin began to slip, _But what would happen then?_ If her friends became human again, would they become her enemies? Humans were part of the Alliance, and her people were sworn to the Horde against them. What would she do if her friends turned against her? A churning and crackling sound filled her ears as her thoughts began to race and darkness clouded her vision. She envisioned Hyzanthlay's face, alive and unplagued, twisting in rage as she fired blasts of fire towards her. Eucalypto bowed to her in mockery as he brandished his daggers. Tiponi snarled as she spun her weapon, a huge sword still dripping with the blood of her foes as she hacked them apart, laughing wickedly.

"Oof!" The crash knocked the air out of her lungs. Her head swam and she felt dizzy. "What...?" She didn't' have time to finish. She had somehow lost her footing and tumbled down the mountain towards the monastery, and from the shouts the sentries had spotted her. She rose as quickly as she could and although her joints still ached from the fall, she quickly outpaced her enemies. A Shu'halo could easily outrun a human over level ground. What was it she had been thinking about again? _Oh yes, I need to get into that monastery and find a flower._


	111. Chapter 111

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Sorena had ridden through the dark night. From the little farmhouse by the cemetery she had driven her skeletal mount north, across the river, taking a cautious sweep past the sleeping city of Goldshire, then to the secret place on the wall that she and Eucalypto had prepared. The sloping, rocky hills were not well guarded, as it was mistakenly believed that they made the thick walls even more secure. Most of the Stormwind guard were prepared for an open assault with larger numbers. One or two covert spies did get in from time to time, usually stealthy rogues. Or in this case, an ingenious priest.

She was working on a map of the city at the time, piecing it together with clues she and Eucalypto had gathered. They were trying to formulate a plan involving setting communication devices in certain places throughout the city. Then she heard the heavy clump of metal boots on the hollow stairway, and realized that their hideout had been discovered.

She barely had time to turn around before the door burst open, and she was faced with several armed guards. Two already had their crossbows trained on her. Two others had their swords drawn. The fifth had a thick pair of manacles ready.

None of the officers lived to tell exactly what happened, and Sorena was not one to boast about her fighting prowess, so it was usually Eucalypto that was known for proudly telling this story.

The manacles were about to clap on to the priest`s wrists when she spoke a horrible word. The two guards with crossbows screamed in uncontrollable horror as they turned and fired their weapons on each other. In the second that it took for them to fall in a crumpled heap on the ground, Sorena had turned to face the unfortunate guard who had been holding the manacles. She broke his arm, then cast a devouring plague that sucked the life out of his body, and threw him across the room, knocking one of the swordmen down. The other was attacked by a malevolent, invisible force that seemed to leap from the upper corner of the room. Both stricken swordsman were afflicted by pain and disease, and neither got up from the floor. It had taken Sorena only a few seconds to finish off five of Stormwind`s best men.

She did not run. There must be more outside waiting. She dismissed her shadow fiend, reached into her pack, and pulled out a device that Rik would have recognized. It also had flashing buttons and lights. She pressed a button and waited for a moment before hearing Eucalypto`s voice.

"We`ve been discovered," she said shortly. "Perhaps this line was traced somehow."

Pause.

"There will most certainly be a Sentinel. Yes. I`ll have to hurry."

She pressed another button, put the device in her pack, and stepped towards the door. When she looked into the corridor, she was able to discern a pair of angry, white eyes squinting at her from the distant doorway. She did not stay long enough to see the flash of the Sentinel's huge axe. The priest turned and ran, not looking back.

She could hear the heavy footsteps on the corridor, and smell the old scars on the night elf`s skin and the worn but still sharp edge of the massive axe she carried. The Sentinel could run unhindered by petty annoyances that would slow down a human, like darkness. Sorena also sensed her age. A creature that had witnessed the apocalyptic Sundering would know little fear. The Sentinel that pursued her would be resistant to the magic that had destroyed the human guards. She would have to be quick...and lucky.

A balcony at the end of the hallway gave her easy access to the rooftops. She and Eucalypto had arranged an escape route that would lead from the rooftops to the outer wall, then the rocky cliffs. How far in advance had her pursuers anticipated her escape? If they had their cats ready, she would not be able to outrun them.

This last thought made Sorena catch her breath and focus on escape. As she leapt from the first rooftop to the second, a low whistle on the wind distracted her. A dull, searing pain in her side followed. Of course, the Sentinel had not come alone. She had brought a hunter, and despite Sorena`s speed and agility she had not been able to dodge or even sense the attack. Even if she had, her shield would have to be saved for the jump from the cliff. She could not have used it against the soldiers either; it would not have recharged in time.

She was reluctant to reveal her knowledge of the Light to the Alliance, but had she not cast a simple healing spell on herself in the moment that the arrow hit, she would have careened from the rooftop and into the arms of the Hunter and the Stormwind guard. Even then, the wound and the poison the arrow had carried slowed her pace. The Sentinel was close enough that Sorena heard her draw her breath in anger and surprise.

The priest could not look back. She jumped again and landed on another rooftop, her feet still moving as quickly as possible. Pain and fear did not affect her speed. The oiled metal of the axe filled her nostrils. She felt the heavy steps of the Sentinel shift as she drew the weapon.

Sorena jumped, and the blade nicked her cloak. The weight of the blade shook the air. It could have easily sliced the frail undead creature in half. The next swing was sure to hit her. The Sentinel was unwounded and determined. Her pace had quickened.

The priest leapt again. The axe sailed through the air, this time a solid hit. But it never reached the Priest. It was deflected by a Divine Shield, and although the shield was damaged the weapon did not penetrate. However, this compromised Sorena`s ability to protect herself from the fall from the cliffs, and she was badly wounded as she landed on the grass by the other side of the wall. The Sentinel could not make the same jump. She would have to be quick. Even if if took a scant few seconds for the night elf to find another way down, Sorena would need a good head start to outrun the cats.


	112. Chapter 112

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay had little use for the herbs that grew in Elwynn now. She gathered a few with the intention of donating them to the Clan as a means of appeasement, but did not plan to stay long. She was debating whether or not to use her hearthstone to return to Undercity and report, or ride south to Grom Gol and perhaps even visit Eucalypto in Booty Bay. Then she heard the alarms from Stormwind sound. It seems some serious trouble was afoot, as the alarms from Goldshire also began to sound. Whatever was troubling the humans of Elwynn, it was on the move and trying to escape.

The warlock was still near the road, but she also could hear and see much of what was in the dark woods. If it was running from Stormwind, it would likely cut north through the forest and head for Duskwood.

In a few moments, she was not surprised to see a skeletal horse lumbering through the underbrush, and the way that the rider was hunched over indicated that she had already been wounded. It was Sorena, the priest she had been watching not two hours ago. She was riding hard, but the undead mounts of the Forsaken were known for their resilience and not their speed, and she would not be able to outrun the two nightsabers that were pursuing her. So involved was their pursuit, however, that they did not notice the warlock`s glowing eyes nearby, glaring at them with utter contempt and disgust as they drew closer to their quarry.

Hyzanthlay waited for them to pass by, then summoned her flaming demon mount. She would be able to catch them and overtake them easily, but she was more interested in an early breakfast. She had not tried night elf, and from the smell she suspected the taste would be equally putrid, but that didn`t mean she wasn`t going to try.


	113. Chapter 113

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

It had only taken a few seconds for Lafti to find a safer place to climb down from the wall. They had anticipated that the priest would take this route, and a few well-placed ropes had been placed nearby. Zephe was already waiting, as were their two nightsabers. The beasts could smell the thrill of the hunt on their mistresses, and ran as swiftly and silently as shadows over the dark grass.

The night elves did not need to speak. Zephe knew her shot had hit sailed straight and true, and from the determined but content look on Lafti´s face it was clear the priest was injured and near capture. Zephe knew she was close, heading east, and she knew their mounts were faster. With any luck, they would be able to catch her before she even crossed the river.

The undead horse let off a luminous glow that bobbed and weaved through the trees. Lafti spurred her mount on ahead. Zephe fell back, drawing her bow, and prepared for another shot.

Lafti drew her axe and prepared to strike the priest. She would knock her from her mount, perhaps try to keep her alive for a few minutes. Communication would be difficult, but they might be able to get something out of her before hacking her up. She would also have to be careful not to damage any of her belongings. An undead priest that was a master of the Holy Light! Some form of proof would be required.

Using the weapon`s massive weight, she leaned back and prepared to swing forward and leap from her mount. The priest turned for a moment and looked at her, and Lafti was actually shaken by the resigned yet defiant look on her grey face. She bit her lip and swung.

A scream shattered the air and shook Lafti`s normally firm grip. The axe glanced off the Priest`s shoulder, knocking her from her mount but not mortally wounding her. She turned her nightsaber and watched with surprised horror as Zephe`s mount bolted past her, riderless.

A great swath of fire was stretched across the grass where they had just ran, and a hapless figure, covered in flames, came blundering out of it. It was Zephe, writing in the grip of Immolate and consumed by Fear. Then the great demon, snorting fire and pawing flame, appeared through the curtain of smoke and ash. The undead Warlock snarled proudly at the chaos it had created, it`s eyes filled with unholy fire.

Lafti gagged with anger, and forgot the priest. The air was still filled with Zephe's screams. Flames began to lick at the limbs of the trees and the wind carried the small burning tongues over the dry grass. The warlock dismissed her mount and faced the Sentinel, who raised her axe and charged. Her world had shrunk, from the trees of Darnassus and the walls of Stormwind, to this single rotting warlock`s neck. Where she had come from didn't matter. All that mattered now was her messy demise.

She jumped and roared her challenge, and the warlock returned it by speaking a horrible word. The Fear spell did not miss, but withered and fell from the target, not strong enough to stop the enraged Sentinel. The heavy axe swung, but like before on the wall, it bounced off its target. The force of the blow sent Lafti reeling through the dark space and hurled her into the burning undergrowth.

By the time she scrambled to her feet, both of the Forsaken were gone. She turned to Zephe, who was lying on the ground, her body still smoldering, her cheeks and eyes still swollen from the heat and pain. They were both calm, but also visibly excited. The thrill of the chase was still on them.

"She came upon us in the woods," Zephe explaind, as Lafti helped her up. "I only sensed her at the last moment, after the priest got out."

"One thing we do have," Lafti said, retrieving her axe, "we have seen an undead priest use the Holy Light with no small amount of skill. And we know our informant is real."

"Yes, he did mention a warlock." Zephe took some potions and elixirs from her bag and consumed them. She offered them to her friend but the Sentinel refused. She was busy with their nightsabers, who had been thrown into a stubborn and agitated mood by the attack.

They did not speak again, but walked back to Stormwind, calming their mounts as they did so.


	114. Chapter 114

_(From the quill of Urth)_

The fire burned low as the hunters lounged about, drinking and celebrating their success that day, without concern for the shadows surrounding the camp. The local wildlife held no terrors for such men. Kohanaa smiled at the irony. They would pay dearly for their presumption. With but a whisper of a sound he moved closer, ready to pounce.

It had taken some time for Kohanaa to feel comfortable in his new role. Seeing the world through the eyes of a druid was at once terrifying and inspiring. He felt young again, ready to go out and rediscover all that the world had to offer. It was this wanderlust and desire to explore that had lead to this current predicament. While he was loath to once again resort to violence, Kohanaa knew he could not let the crimes and desecration committed by these poachers go unavenged. For three days and nights he had watched them, waiting for him moment, and at last it had arrived. With a silent prayer to the Earthmother, he flexed his powerful legs and sprung, claws outstretched

The first man died before his brethren even knew they were under attack.

Mikhail raised his rifle and took aim, firing a round straight into the beast's hind leg. It roared in pain, but before he could take a second shot, it had turned to glare at him with unnaturally intelligent malice before warping and changing in to the form of a great grey bear. The ramifications struck Mikhail only moments before the druid, and after that he ceased to care.

Kohanaa felt more than heard the final hunter's neck snap under the force of the blow, and he looked around for more foes to rip and tear and kill. The wound on his leg burned and the rage of the bear seared hot in his chest. With great effort he shifted back to his natural form, and at once the red mist began to clear from his mind. After quickly dealing with the wound to his thigh and several other cuts he had pushed aside, he examined what was left of the poachers camp.

There was a time he would simple have left the bloody mess as a message to others who would choose to defile the natural world, but it went against the what he was trying to become. Kohanaa sat and began to chant the ritual of the dead, asking the Earthmother to watch over those he had been forced to kill this day. Come morning he would head north, better to avoid the patrols investigating his string of wilderness massacres than to risk confrontation with soldier merely doing their duty. He longed once more for the day when his nose would not be filled with the acrid stench of fresh blood.


	115. Chapter 115

The ceaseless pounding of the heavy drum thrummed in time to pounding in the old Shu'halo's veins. Turak Runetotem, a venerable elder by the standards of his people, walked with the aid of a hefty stick and paused periodically to ease his aching bones. Yet when the drums began to beat, he smiled, and for a moment he was a young hunter again. A lot had changed since his Rite of Wisdom, the whole world had in fact. For hundreds of years his people had followed a path, and like a drop in the flowing river, he too melded into that path. But who is to say what lies around a river bend? A fork? A barricade? His people's course had been forever diverted by the coming of the Horde, but implacable as the ancient river they pressed on. Had it really been so long ago? He had stood at the top of the highest peak in Mulgore and foolishly bragged to the spirits that he knew everything of the world. He chucked aloud at the memory. So much had changed in such little time. His people honoured their traditions as their ancestors did, but with so much change in the world around them it was only natural that the Shu'halo would begin to change as well. It was hard to accept for some, but if time had taught him anything it was that, as time went on, the more he learnt, the less he truly knew.

The drums beat on, a steady beat, a rhythm that resonated through the souls of every tauren present. They leapt in time, twisting and writhing- letting their spirits be carried away in the beat of the moment. Around a large bonfire the young ones danced. The flames flickered high into the night sky sending glittering sparks up to Mu'sha. The warriors danced wildly, they were decorated with their finest trophies, a mask in the form of a great kodo or cougar, or a cloak of colourful harpy feathers. Their fur was painted in twisting patterns to honour the spirits, and as they danced their shadows stretched to flash across the buildings throughout Bloodhoof Village. The drums, the pipes and the singing filled his ears and everywhere he looked he saw joy in the eyes of his people. In all but one that is. A lone figure sat hunched by the shore of Stonebull lake. His horns dropped low and he ignored the festivities going on around him. Even when a young and beautiful tauren danced by and laid a wreath of flowers about his head, he barely even blinked.

Turak carefully lowered himself down to the water's edge. "Takoda, enjoy the festivities. It is not every day you become a grandfather." The red-furred tauren only sighed and gazed deeper into the water. Turak grunted as he levered himself into a sitting position with the aid of his staff. "You will dishonour Fala if you continue to sulk."

"I am happy for my daughter, truly I am. But my heart aches for my family."

Turak inhaled deeply. This was a conversation they had had before. "It was not your fault, you know that."

"It was, Turak! I drove her away, and now I have lost both a son and a daughter." A tear began to worm its way through the fur on Takoda's snout. It dripped into the water with a small ripple, though he did not appear to notice.

Turak dipped his staff into the lake. The clear water rippled outwards, shimmering under Mu'sha's light. "Everything we do has consequence Takoda, even those we do not see. Like a ripple in water these consequences can have other effects that get larger and larger, until suddenly they are unlike anything we ever imagined." His friend sniffed and glanced in his direction, it was a good sign. "Much has happened of late, the ripples cross and are affected by other ripples, like in a rainstorm. One single drop cannot be held accountable for all that."

"I drove my daughter away, Turak. I have lost her forever..."

With a grunt, Turak lifted his staff from the water and wracked Takoda across the head with it. The younger male went sprawling into the lake and emerged with a sour expression and a lily pad atop his head. The effect was comical but Turak withheld his laugher until his point was made. "Trust in the Earthmother, Takoda, everything happens for a reason. And trust in your son, Kwahu will bring Tiponi home."

Takoda's eyes widened, staring at something behind him. Turak began to turn as Takoda spoke; "Is that one of your Night Elf friends?" The red tauren lunged, pulling Turak's hooves out from beneath him and landing the old druid in the lake beside him.

"Is that any way to treat a venerable elder!?" Turak began to laugh, and the sound of Takoda's laugh joining his was far sweeter to his ears than even the beating of the drum.


	116. Chapter 116

The scene was familiar to her now. As Tiponi walked through the ash waste, plumes of fire would erupt from the ground beneath her hooves. No matter how fast she ran, she could not escape the choking ash clouds reeking of sulphur. She could not escape. Usually she was caught by some unseen force and dragged back into oblivion, other times she came to the edge. As she leapt out of the way of another jet of fire, the heat of it blackening the fur on her legs, her hooves landed at the edge of a precipice. Shards of rock fell away with the impact of her landing, and she watched them fall, getting smaller and smaller until they faded from her sight completely. They never hit the bottom. Was there even a bottom? She couldn't even see the other side of the crevasse through the mist. It was as though she teetered at the end of the world. She turned back and saw the shadow coming towards her. It veritably stank of evil. Tall and imposing, its shape began to coalesce in the mist. "NO ESCAPE..." its roar was deafening. Tiponi felt more rocks tumble into nothingness as she took a step back. The rock gave way beneath her hooves and she fell.

"No!" She sat bolt upright, hitting her head hard against the stone. "Ugh..." Settling back down and rubbing the growing lump on her head, Tiponi recalled where she was. The rentable beds in the Undercity had been hard to get used to. They were stone sarcophagi covered in a stone slab roof, which was decorated in the typical undead skull motif. As she slid the heavy stone lid off herself, Tiponi considered that she couldn't even remember the last time she had a good night's sleep. There were no time pieces on hand, but judging from the empty halls it was still the middle of the night. It was silent except for the faint whispers Tiponi could hear at the very edge of her perception. She pulled on her clothes and headed out into the city.

The Lady's Arms was still doing good business at this hour. Shouts and music spilled out onto the empty street as she neared the tavern. It stank of decay and stale beer, but it was better than sleeping in a coffin dreaming of the end. She waved to the barkeep as she entered, he was polishing a cracked glass behind the bar. Flickering light from candelabras lit the room. The booths lining the walls were full of patrons. She saw a few orcs mixing with the undead, as well as a single grey-furred Shu'halo she did not recognise. The floor of the tavern was covered with small tables of varying makes and sizes, pillaged from the ruins of Lordaeron no doubt, and they too brimmed with customers. She recognised a few of the Forsaken and made her way over.

"Tiponi! Good to see you!" grinned Jeffery, a lanky undead with a mob of dishevelled hair.

"You made it!" chimed in his brother Phillip, who was nearly his twin in appearance but a foot shorter with short groomed hair.

She smiled at the others and shook their hands in turn, trying to remember names but failing miserably. She settled in and quickly downed a plateful of ale glasses.

"I still owe you one from last night." Jeff moaned, pulling a few silver from his moth-eaten pockets.

"Yes," laughed Tiponi, "Make sure it's the fresh stuff this time, I won't drink the rot you Forsaken do!"

"Picky, picky," he frowned shaking his head, "It's more expensive you know."

"I told you that when you bet against me." She batted her long eyelashes at him. "Of course if you want to try double or nothing..."

"Don't do it Jeff," Phil pleaded, "She has a wicked arm."

"Oh all right," Jeff sulked, "How about a new wager? A drinking contest? Hmm?"

Tiponi drained the rest of her flagon, earning nods of approval from the orcs and replied, "I don't think so. You Forsaken have an unfair advantage with your undead constitution. Anyway it's my round..." She got up from the table and edged across the tightly packed floor.

A very drunk Forsaken slurred something under his breath "I like em big...hic!" and slapped Tiponi hard on the rump as she passed. She stopped for a moment, then lashed out with her fist. His neck snapped back with the speed of the blow and for a split second Tiponi felt the point of restraint come and swiftly pass. She began to punch him, again and again. She was dimply aware of the shouting, and the hands attempting to restrain her. She could feel shards of bone come away and prick into her flesh, part of his face was caved in by the time the drunk man was dragged away by someone yelling for a healer. Most of the lumpy bits of flesh still clung to Tiponi's knuckles as she was held back by six Forsaken.

"You!" The barkeep shouted, "You better leave, NOW!"

Tiponi rolled her shoulders, throwing off the undead men and stormed out. As she passed the door she spat a huge glob of bloody phlegm onto the bar top.


	117. Chapter 117

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay glumly made her way to the Royal Quarter. She stomped down the stairs and marched past her usual haunts; the bank, the Apothecareum, that spot on the mossy bridge where she usually went fishing. Focus on the Monastery, she thought fiercely, and think of all that bright blood you'll be able to spill. Yes, all those sweet Crusader guts squishing under her heavy step…she smiled and licked her lips. Something else drew her there, the same morbid curiosity that had driven her to Duskwood. She did not ask herself what it was, in a way she was not even able to. As an undead warlock, she could only think of the most immediate and visceral. She had not killed humans in a while, and Crusaders were especially succulent. It was the way they first looked at her, with disdain and disgust. She loved to watch that look turn to fear and horror, then the grim resignation of their fate. Some tried to run. Those were the ones that initially approached her with the most confidence. Those were her favourites.

The passage that led to the Queen's chamber seemed longer than usual. She ignored the guards that saluted her as she reached the end of the passage. The dreadlord Varimathras filled her field of vision, blocking out anything else as she slowly mounted the steps that led to the throne.

"Kneel," he sneered at her, his voice thick with a heavy darkness.

Hyzanthlay managed to hold in a defiant look and slowly descended to one knee.

"Lower," he rumbled.

A barely perceptible hiss slipped through Hyzanthlay`s teeth as she put both knees on the ground and touched her forehead to the floor.

"Lower," Varimathras rumbled, and laughed loudly when she finally looked up at him defiantly.  
Sylvanas let Varimathras finish, then beckoned to the warlock.

"Rise and report," she said, her eyes glowing with a white light that Hyzanthlay now clearly recognized. "You successfully tracked the priest, did you not?"

"I did as you commanded, my Queen," Hyzanthlay now stood up but remained bent at the waist, her head lowered. "It was not difficult, as she made little effort to conceal her movements. She visited a small farm, of little consequence, and possibly abandoned. Foraging for supplies and frightening the odd human. I have nothing further to report."

There was a strange, heavy silence that filled the chamber. Varimathras twitched his leathery wings but said nothing.

"Are you certain, Warlock, that you have no further information?" Sylvanas spoke in a cold, angry voice.

"I have nothing further to report," Hyzanthlay repeated in the same cold, dead voice that Sylvanas had used, but she raised her glowing orbs in defiance as she did so.

"Very well," Sylvanas said heavily. "And now, we will hear another report. Are you so arrogant to think you were not followed as well?"

She let this hang in the air for a moment. The warlock remained unmoved.

"Sorena," the Dark Lady nodded towards a dark corner of the room, "approach the throne and give your report."

Well, that makes sense, Hyzanthlay thought. And now priest, we'll find out what kind of undead you are.

"My Lady," Sorena curtsied gracefully, and remained on one knee. "I followed the warlock as you commanded. She is drawn by the herbs and raiding that the dark woods have to offer. You would be proud, my Queen, to see the havoc she has wrought upon our enemies. They flee before her horrible visage. I have nothing more to report."

Impressive, Hyzanthlay thought, holding back a toothy smile. Perhaps, priest, you and I do have something in common.

Varimathras nodded in approval. The Dark Lady hesitated a moment before continuing.

"Then continue to strike fear into the hearts of even our most zealous enemies," she said, her voice reaching a powerful crescendo. "To the Monastery, Hyzanthlay, and Sorena will aid you as you raze it to the ground! Now GO!"

Hyzanthlay and Sorena bowed low, and walked from the inner sanctum of the royal quarter side by side. The only exchanged the occasional suspicious look until they reached the goopy green moat that snaked through the four quarters of Undercity.

"I'm riding out through the sewers," Hyzanthlay wanted to get out of Undercity as soon as possible. "Do you need to stop at the bank, or get repairs?"

"I do," Sorena said, her voice strangely calm and clear compared to Hyzanthlay's grating rasp. "A few parts and bolts and I can do some worthy damage, even if I am busy healing. How many others do we have?"

Hyzanthlay had to admit that she was right. "We need a warrior, or a druid," she answered, following Sorena to the engineering trainer. "You know Rik, don't you? I've seen him in his bear form. Can he come with us?"

"I sent a cable to Eucalypto in Grom Gol," Sorena answered. "He would have answered by now."

"I'll meet you by the back entrance," Hyzanthlay didn't look at Sorena as she veered off to see the Herbalist. A visit to the Apothecaruem would also be in order.

They separated without another word. Both had many questions, but these walls had ears.


	118. Chapter 118

(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)

Strellabelle wasn't sure of the Dark Lady's plans, but she had been told by higher ranking members of the Clan to wait by the monastery and await further instructions. She followed the orders without question and hoped that Hyzanthlay would eventually learn to do the same. However, she did harbour some misgivings about who she would be meeting here. She remembered that young warrior that they had met in the Sepulchre, and how carelessly Hyzanthlay had tossed her a number of valuable healing potions of her own volition.

The undead warlock scowled. Such insolence! And then running off to Darkshire with barely a word! Fraternizing with old friends, familiar surroundings or...even more dire, former family members, was dangerous. On one hand, raids and skirmishes that took place In Darkshire and even Elwynn could be very effective. The mere sight of a single Forsaken riding freely down the main road would strike terror in the heart of almost any human. Tearing the humans down from the inside, attacking their hearts and their spirits. To show any vulnerability, however, was a mistake. The undead must always exude an air of cruelty, apathy, and unwavering obedience.

It was the Clan of the Fallen that had pointed out the suspicious trips a certain priest had been making into Alliance territory. It had also been their suggestion that Hyzanthlay be sent to confirm their suspicions. If Sorena had agreed to join them instead, perhaps the Clan would have looked the other way. A priest who could wield the Holy Light! Such a talent would have to be studied and exploited, for exclusive use of the Clan, of course.

Instead, she fell in with that Druid, another face she remembered from the Sepulchre. The darkness in her face deepened. They had formed a guild and were still in Booty Bay, a likely place for an upstart guild of vagrants and freaks. It was also a shame that this Eucalypto had ignored her requests. He barely even showed his face in Undercity. Apparently he had some connection to the cockroach vendor but, being a rogue of exceptional quality, he kept his secrets well. The sources the Clan had at their disposal were keeping an eye on the new guild, and so far they had nothing incriminating to report. The easiest way to usurp a guild's coveted membership was to tear it apart. The Clan had done it before.

A movement in the thick, musty air interrupted Strellabelle`s train of thought. From her vantage point, she saw a Tauren moving towards her across the grass and recognized the warrior from the Sepulchre.

I should have known, she grumbled inwardly, and sent her minion to attract her attention. Unlike Hyzanthlay, Strellabelle preferred to let her demons do most of the work. And she had to admit, the look on the average Tauren's face when suddenly faced with a looming voidwalker was quite comical.

This particular Tauren disappointed her, however. Apparently she had already seen a number of demons, perhaps thanks to befriending Hyzanthlay, and did not react with any sort of surprise or consternation. She looked past the voidwalker to find the warlock who must have been hiding somewhere behind it. In fact, she barely even took note of the thing.

"That's some fine armour," the undead female appeared from the undergrowth. "Are you ready to enter the Monastery?"

Tiponi was expecting to meet Hyzanthlay here, and was taken aback by this undead stranger who seemed to know her. The voidwalker continued scowling at nothing in particular and offered no explanation. Tiponi had grown rather tired of the games the Forsaken played after the time she had spent in Undercity.

"Who are you?" She asked, putting her hand suggestively on her weapon. "Did Hyzanthlay send you?"

"We have met, but you would not remember," the undead replied with a mocking bow. "I am Strellabelle. Hyzanthlay assisted me in Shadowfang Keep. You are the Tauren that was wounded travelling to the Sepulchre. She...gave you some potions."

As the warlock spoke this last part, her voice seemed to grate more than usual, in an almost threatening way. Tiponi did not respond to this. One thing she had learned about the undead; most of their more annoying habits were designed to provoke a reaction, as if they were forsaken children.

"I was happy to have her help," Tiponi decided to give this Strellabelle a dig of her own. "I've only seen her voidwalker once. Is she so highly skilled that she doesn't need a demon?"

Of course, Tiponi knew better. But the way Strellabelle`s face twisted angrily when she said so that she decided playing the naive bovine was worth it.

"Hyzanthlay prefers the more…crude…of the disciplines, Destruction," Strellabelle sneered with disdain. "Messy and simple, but effective. The Clan is happy enough with it. We need our share of vicious killers, after all."

Tiponi did not reply, but continued to stare fixedly at the warlock. She repressed the urge to glare at the demon, who would have been breathing down her neck if it had breath.

"I'm surprised she hasn't demonstrated her abilities on you yet," Strellabelle hissed, looking over the Tauren warrior with a casual indifference. "She really is a heartless creature. I can't imagine her caring at all for a…ahem...cow. She made a joke about steak while you were lying there, senseless and wounded."

"Are we going to the Monastery, or not?" Tiponi showed no reaction.

"Hyzanthlay will arrive directly," Strellabelle hissed. "I have been told she will bring a healer. As well as someone to lead us. Hopefully, not another cow. The Druid from the Keep was troublesome at best. We will wait out of sight. There's a small cemetery and a gallows close to the entrance. Even your bulky frame will stay hidden."

Without waiting for a reply, Strellabelle turned and stomped into the undergrowth. The Tauren and voidwalker followed in silence.


	119. Chapter 119

Tiponi lounged across the earth and rock like a rich human would lounge on pillows. She was disturbed by the manner of this Strellabelle and retaliated with exaggerated self-assurance. This warlock seemed to be looking for a fight, and easy to provoke. She irritated Tiponi's nerves, as she paced beside her demon in impatience. Tiponi embellished a slow yawn in mockery, and went back to preparing her supplies. It would not be long now, she had said, and it seemed Hyzanthlay would be coming after all. Tiponi finished sharpening her dagger and returned it to its snug sheath at her waist.

As she stretched out a roll of linen before her, she studied her newest companion. Her big blue demon did not stray far from its mistress's side. It was strange, she mused, it hadn't been so long ago that she would have been afraid of the demon, and angry at its very existence. An affront to the Earthmother, an unnatural abomination she would have called it. She now barely even noticed the thing. Perhaps that realisation should have disturbed her, but it didn't. She began to tear strips of linen from the cloth to make a bundle of bandages, smiling at Strellabelle while she did so. The warlock glanced her way and rolled her eyes, and Tiponi grinned broader.

It would not be long now, she thought. Finally the wait was over, and it would all be worth it. Soon, very soon she would be in the Scarlet Monastery, surrounded by pathetic humans. They would attack her, confident in their impending victory, and oh how she would surprise them. She could hardly wait to see the moment of realisation in their eyes. They would laugh at her, then they would slowly begin to comprehend. They would know fear and then pain. When she looked into their eyes and saw death in them, she would laugh. She let out a stifled giggle, and remembered where she was. The warlock was looking at her curiously now and Tiponi glared at her in return.

She quickly returned to her work. What was she thinking about again? Oh yes, it would not be long now. She would join her friends in honourable combat and retrieve a flower for the spirits of the dead. She smiled, soon everything would be alright.


	120. Chapter 120

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

What Hyzanthlay had referred to as the "sewers" was really a rough tunnel that was once the ventilation shaft for the capital city sewers. It was mostly unguarded, as if the Forsaken were daring anyone with the courage or foolishness to try and enter it. Many had tried, and few had returned to tell what they had seen. Sorena had received word from Eucalypto. They had a Druid. Not Rik, however. Hyzanthlay was not surprised, as she had usually seen him healing.

They rode in silence along the misty road, Hyzanthlay constantly checking her mount so as not to leave Sorena behind. They came to a halt where the road to the Monastary began. Hyzanthlay took a moment to stare longingly at the Bulwark.

"What are you looking for?" Sorena's voice, still unnaturally smooth for an undead, slipped through her thoughts. "What do you expect that little dog to dig up?"

She was asking about what she was staring at, but what she was doing wandering around in Duskwood.

"I have no memory of my life before I rose to undeath," Hyzanthlay answered flatly, her voice grating. "I know I died in Andorhol, most likely in the seige. That dog and her cowardly master seem to know me. But I expect they will tell me nothing. It seems my only recourse is to ride east, and see for myself."

"And the gnomes?" Sorena asked. "If the dog would not damn you, that surely will. You must know they will use the herbs against us."

Hyzanthlay cackled, as if this thought was actually rather pleasing.

"Any business I do in Elwynn is my own, as is the gold I collect. Any legitimate dealings within the Horde, and Clan would know of, and take a share of the profits. What do I care if the Forsaken fall from my firebloom? The shallow grave is still full, and do we not possess the same powers in death as the Scourge?"

Sorena smiled gently and nodded in agreement. Now it was Hyzanthlay's turn. She regarded the Priest for a moment, taking note of her rather small stature, which was another contrast to her own. Hyzanthlay was not much taller, but had broader shoulders, and many of her still ropey muscles were clearly visible though her grey, papery skin.

They slowly passed by the Hanging Tree, where the Scarlet Crusade had strung up a number of their enemies as a warning to the others. The bodies, or what was left of them, drifted helplessly on the breeze.

"How is it possible, Priest, that you can touch the Holy Light?"

Sorena hesitated a moment before answering, regarding the twisting bodies that dangled from the tree with regret, perhaps even longing.

"My memories of my life are very clear," she said softly. "The child you saw me with by the farmhouse is my son. In the months before he was born, I was commissioned by the Alliance to use my engineering skills for the war. I was rather frail to begin with, and the work took a toll on me. The birth was a difficult one, but I was stubborn, and held on for a few days. Long enough to hold him and even nurse him, even if it was only once or twice."

She fell silent. Hyzanthlay felt a strange, bitter taste in her mouth, and longed to cleanse it with fresh blood. That would have to wait; instead she distracted them both with a follow-up question.

"So...because you had a child, you can use the Holy Light?"

"Not exactly," Sorena said, casting her eyes away from the Tree and to the warlock at her side. Her voice softened to a whisper. "When I hold my son, or when I think of the...the joy he brought me..."

She stopped and turned away. The scowl on Hyzanthlay's face had deepened, as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. At the word "joy", she had made an awful, guttural noise and spat on the ground.

"We should stay quiet from here," the Warlock said gruffly. "There will be sentries soon. Will Rik be joining us?"

Sorena rode cautiously behind her companion, who was spurring her mount on and licking her lips hungrily.

"Rik is more of a healer these days, as the new guild has need of one. There is another Druid, one who is well-versed in the Bear aspect. We can wait for him…"

"He will come when I am ready," Hyzanthlay hissed, and spurred her mount on.


	121. Chapter 121

_(From the quill of Urth)_

"What sort of people have you mixed yourself up with old friend?"  
This question had been dominating Kohanaa's mind ever since he had followed the young child from the bar in Undercity. Ever since Rik had sent him a description of those he needed protected on a mission to the monastery up north, Kohanaa had been on the lookout, correctly assuming at least some of the party would need to resupply in the city. But what he found had disturbed him greatly. These Forsaken seemed to revel in cruelty and pain with a gusto that reminded him of the Legion. And then to find a young Shu'halo who had fallen so far from the path of the Earthmother. If not for his word to Rik that he would see them safely through that prevented him from simply walking away from this diseased land without a look back.

He had followed the young warrior for some time, but it seemed the others had not yet arrived and so he had slipped away to find somewhere more peaceful to rest, confidant in his ability to track the strange pair should they decide to press on. There was little respite to be found in the blighted lands of northern Lordaeron, but he had finally located a secluded cave to rest when he felt a sickening sensation just beneath his chest, like someone was trying to pull his heart out through his spine. The world began to spin and Kohanaa felt himself being forcefully snatched away into the darkness of the nether.

When he next became aware of his surroundings, he saw the monastery just a short way up the hill. And yet most of his focus was taken by the strange band than now stood around him.


	122. Chapter 122

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Tiponi felt the hoofbeats vibrating through the earth before she heard the mounts or saw the riders. There were two; one a demon, the other an undead horse. Strellabelle rose from their relative hiding place in the quiet little graveyard to meet their companions.

Hyzanthlay appeared boldly through the mist, wreathed in fire and smoke, her orbs glittering with anticipation, her hungry tongue licking her cracked, full lips. Her companion was considerably more subdued in manner and appearance. Her pale mount cantered slowly through the thin fog. She had a thin, narrow frame and sat upright, but her eyes and face were partially covered in a thick hood. Tiponi studied her closely. Her first instinct had been correct, but she had to think twice. It was a priest. Was this their healer? It must be; they already had enough for damage, and their leader was yet to be summoned.

"Greetings, Tauren," Hyzanthlay nodded to Strellabelle but spoke to Tiponi first. "You certainly look...and smell ready. There`s an unmistakable odour of rent undead flesh on your knuckles. Just warming up, eh?"

Tiponi said nothing, but suppressed a grin as Hyzanthlay stifled a laugh.

"I expected you to bring two," Strellabelle said. "Unless you are prepared to draw your sword and lead us."

Hyzanthlay let her toothy smile spread over her scarred cheeks and put her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"My hunger could drive me all the way to the Cathedral," she growled through her clenched teeth. "My companion has found a Bear. You...don't mind running with another druid, do you? This is Sorena, an accomplished priest..."

Strellabelle's face twisted as she cut Hyzanthlay off.

"We've met," she hissed, and turned away. Hyzanthlay smiled thinly.

"His name is Kohanaa," Sorena said quietly, nodding towards Strellabelle. She dismounted from her horse and leading it into a sheltered spot. "He will be waiting for our summons."

"Then let's not be rude, and keep him waiting," Hyzanthlay drew a small, glowing shard from her pack without waiting for Strellabelle. Either warlock would be able to summon but she was clearly in a hurry to get started.

The Druid did not seem to be disoriented or frightened as many were when summoned by a warlock. It could be a painful and confusing process for those not well versed in the powers of Fel. He seemed to be focused on the monastery at first, then lowered his massive horns to face his new companions. His fur was light grey, his eyes calm and contemplative. The sight of the three Forsaken, two being warlocks, clearly did not disturb or unnerve him.

"Hail, and well met," He gave a stiff, collective bow to the group before raising his hand and greeting Tiponi in their native tongue. "I see we are a full party. Shall we begin?"

"Indeed," Sorena said, smiling. "One of our warlocks is restless."

Hyzanthlay was grumbling and pacing back and forth across the road, just out of sight from where the outer sentries would have been patrolling.

The Druid regarded the Priest with a steady gaze. It was not common to have an undead priest as the main healer, but he had already seen that no other in the group (except perhaps himself) would be able to serve the party in this regard. He showed no doubt as he took his bear form, shook his massive shoulders and brandished rows of sharp teeth. He usually resisted the urge to rush, always moving at a steady pace, but the pacing warlock and the smell of fresh blood on the other tauren spurred him onward. An aura of anger and impatience swirled about the both of them. If he didn`t check their aggression soon, it was likely they would get themselves killed - along with the rest of the party.

"Then forward," Kohanaa said calmly, and threw his great, furry body towards the imposing grey walls of the Scarlet Monastary.


	123. Chapter 123

_(From the quill of Pdoink)_

Magnus took a moment to rest. Leaning against the haft of his hoe he straightened as best he could- no mean feat for a forsaken who in life had spent his years stooped over plow and mattock. Old bones and weary joints protested as he eased his spine, wiping sweat (he hoped it was sweat) from his brow with the back of a slightly greenish hand. It wasn't a particularly warm day, in fact a slight drizzle was just beginning to fall, but he had been working the soil for most of the morning and soon he was surrounded by an off-smelling nimbus of steam.

His family had hoed this patch for generations, back when there were generations. Pumpkins needed tending, and dark lady or no, he was not going to squander his second lease of life away when the only thing he ever knew remained more or less as it was. The soil was nearly barren, and occasionally reeked of disease like a necrotic limb, but the pumpkins still grew and that was near enough for him. Magnus liked pumkins, they reminded him of himself. A hardy crop, they could survive almost anything. Weather any storm, thaw when the ground freezes and they seemed (relatively) unharmed by the plague. Other seeds would wither and shrivel in that earth, but the hardy vines of pumpkins did well enough. Hoeing this patch gave him the one reason to exist in a time of war and despair.

From the south came the sound of hooves on stone, Magnus turned to look and strained his vision. His eyes weren't as good as they were, he wasn't even sure if they were his at all. After a moment a party of 5 came into view, three forsaken astride skeletal steeds and alongside strode two tauren. They headed east with intent in their eyes and proud smiles on their lips- those that had lips. They were armed and all looked eager for adventure.

Fools.  
Everyone knew what lay that way. The scarlet did not take kindly to those blessed by the dark lady, nor those who entreat with them. A lot of fool nonsense and trouble is what they would find to the east. Magnus was not a one for violence, he was a poor, simple farmer. Even the bandits stopped raiding when they realised all their booty consisted of pumpkins. Violence and tomfoolery.  
Feh.

Magnus shook his head and turned back to the hoe. Driving the wide blade into the earth, tilling the soil, sweating in the fine Tirisfal drizzle. No adventures. No magic. No fool scarlet to take his head. A man knew what to expect from pumpkins.


	124. Chapter 124

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

On the surface, the group was complete and flawless. However, within the heart of each member there was buried a singular purpose, a separate direction, that fragmented the party internally.

Kohanaa's face was twisted into a mask of rage and anger, but inside he was determined and even as well as troubled. He could not deny that his companions were troubling him somewhat. Three Forsaken, and two warlocks no less! The demonic speech that they used with their minions, along with the hollow Gutterspeak of their own race, made his skin crawl. What was more troubling was how he kept turning to his fellow Tauren expecting a similar intuitive sense, but instead felt the opposite. In fact, from the chips of bone on her knuckles to the darkness in her eyes, she seemed infected by them somehow. Something about their stench or angry faces, something about their permanent brooding scowl. How could one of their own, a child of the Earthmother, be darkened to such a degree?

Tiponi herself carried a similar countenance as her countryman; calm and unwavering. But her stern visage camouflaged a troubled mind. She had barely thought about her actions when her fist had been pummelling that grabby undead. She not considered that the reek of rotting skin and old bone would have stayed with her, and that the undead would detect it, and be so pleased by it. At first she had been proud of herself that she had come so far as to win Hyzanthlay's acclaim, perhaps even her recognition as an equal. How long ago was it that she had scorned this same creature and even tried to lecture her? Tiponi began to ask herself how she had changed. She seemed to belong here but what did she really want? The way the Druid had regarded her when she had returned his greeting made her feel alienation when there should have been kinship.

If stature and countenance were measures of kinship, the Priest was clearly the odd one out. She was thin and bony compared to her Forsaken sisters, who hunched over more and seemed broader in the shoulders. This made her even more diminutive to the Tauren, who lost sight of her occasionally despite their vigilance. Sorena moved so quickly and her movements were so silent she was more like a ghost than a zombie. She often found herself in awkward vantage points along walls or near rooftops above their heads, in places where she could heal them and avoid getting hit herself. Something silent and invisible drove her and lifted her above the darkness that gathered at their feet; the darkness of Fel fire and demons.

Strellabelle's voidwalker hissed along at Kohanaa's heels, swerving around in front to head off the groups of two or three that were now coming at them at a steady pace. As she carefully calculated the timing of her Affliction spells, she inwardly repeated the names Varimathras had given the Clan. Loksey, Herod, Whitemane, Morgraine. It was their last night alive. The Clan of the Fallen had successfully taken the credit for the assassination of Arugal. Now, finally, they would destroy the Monastery and definitively crush the last foothold the Scarlets had in eastern Tirisfal Glades. Their place as a guild close to the Throne would always be assured. Strellabelle now sought a way to sever the ties that her sister in Fel had forged with those upstarts the rogue and druid. She considered finding a way to destroy the Priest, as they would soon be surrounded by the Holy Light it would not be so difficult to burn an undead beyond help. But the prospect of losing an undead priest who could heal with such skill made her think twice. In the microcosm of things, it was important to break Hyzanthlay's will and set it to the will of the Clan. That seemed an unlikely prospect today; she was watching the other warlock charge in at the heels of her leader and a demon just to feed when the blood was at it's hottest.

If they saw anything past the Bear, it was often the other warlock that would fill their vision, and then it was only a jumble of glowing eyes and teeth that would terrify them into their eternal rest. At first, this habit had annoyed Sorena, who was already busy healing the Druid and the Voidwalker to babysit a wayward spellcaster. It was soon apparent that her concerns were unfounded. Hyzanthlay was in her glory, alternatively using Drain Life, Lifetap, and Cannabalize to restore her power. She was draining the corpses fairly quickly, in hungry gulps, after using her sword and vice-like grip to pry open the chest cavity. None of the party members knew that this wasn't her usual technique; she was looking for something. The Apothecary Faranell had warned her that the hearts he needed would not likely be found on the guards outside. The sentries that paced the dirt roads outside the Monastery were fairly recent conscripts and were not very troublesome or zealous. She would enjoy tearing into them to make sure.

Hyzanthlay's appetite was not one driven by pleasure or anger, as her party members may have guessed. In the first few minutes they would have been right. But now it was a vicious frustration that spurred her on. She had been waiting for months to reach into the guts of the Scarlet Monastery and rip it's spiritual innards out. Here she was, but that hunger was still not satisfied. In fact, rather than that, it seemed to grow and deepen. She had always known that it had been the Scarlets, the ones that opened up her chest and left her to die in Andorhol, but she still didn't know who or why. It's possible that the answer was here. It was also possible that there was no answer, or that she would never find it. And this made the blood that ran down her gaping maw bitter and cold.

They did well in the open space that preceded the actual structure, but the high Gothic arches that framed the doorways seemed to close in on them as they charged ahead. Re-enforcements were being called. The green grass fell and sank beneath their feet, giving way to worn stone. Arches of marble and granite rose up out of the ground, and they were encased in a maze of blue and white rock.

"This way," Hyzanthlay bolted towards the Graveyard.

"No, don't bother," Strellabelle hissed. "Nothing of value!"

"Grave Moss," Hyzanthlay was already moving. Kohanna had to jump forward to keep her from getting pinned by two Zealots with broadswords. He barely contained his annoyance.

The herb was a valuable one. After a bloody skirmish and a quick conference that simply confirmed the group was in agreement, they proceeded to the Graveyard. Strellabelle at first resisted, as none of the people the Dreadlord had mentioned were in the Graveyard. Intelligence reports said it was a small area anyway, and Hyzanthlay apparently still needed to blow off some steam. They wouldn't be able to charge through the Library like that.


	125. Chapter 125

_Who does he think he is, coming in and taking charge like that?_

Tiponi tried not to grind her teeth as the group carved their way through the Scarlets guarding the perimeter. She stabbed her spear into a human's thigh and with a fluid movement, withdrew it and used the long metal point as a blade to carve the arm off another attacker. _He just shows up and assumes he's in charge. After all the work and planning Hyzanthlay and I did._ She growled in anger as a Scarlet moved in to close with her. She whirled her spear around like a staff and smashed the butt of the wooden pole into his face. Before he could recover, the weapon spun again, disembowelling him. _I saw the way he looked at me._ she fumed, _It was a dismissal. No one of importance._ She roared in another man's face, he soiled himself in terror, the stink of it creeping up to her nose and for a split second her furious rage turned into a smirk before she put the pathetic wretch out of his misery. _I bet he'll say something about the Rite. He'll make me take the feathers out of my mane, because a 'real' Elder wasn't there..._

"IT WAS REAL DAMN IT TO FEL. I DESERVE THIS." She screamed as she cut open the throat of a female sentry. The blood jetted into her face and ran warm between her lips.

"Tiponi, she is dead." The strange voice said.

Tiponi turned, blood running down her arms and face and she held the Scarlet husk high in one arm. The undead was talking to her, the strange woman who could heal and was not so rotten seemed to stare into her.

Tiponi blinked, and her rage began to ebb. She dropped the corpse and shook her head to clear her thoughts. Something...strange was happening to her. She could not control herself of late. She looked around the faces of her companions, they were a mixture of concern and, was that pride? She spoke to deflect their judging gazes. "We should keep moving."


	126. Chapter 126

Despite her attempts to tread lightly, Tiponi's hooves made soft clopping noises on the tiles leading to the Scarlet's Graveyard. She cast quick glances about her surroundings, taking important strategic information in with a fleeting look. She identified possible hiding places for her enemies, avenues of retreat should they be overrun and she looked for furniture of stone columns she could use for cover against missile fire.

The stonework was clean of debris, it should provide stable footing. Tapestries hang from the walls at odd intervals with paintings, presumably of humans of importance. She filed everything away, every sense straining. The flickering candles provided good lighting. The air smelled of their burning wax as well as another more disgusting intermingling of smells. Burnt flesh, excrement and rot. Moans and shrieks of pain, as well as the clanging of metal echoed along the corridor. Her new armour glimmered faintly in the golden candlelight. She gripped her spear tightly in one and held her lightweight hide buckler in the other. Her face was a mask of concentration as she made her way through the monastery with the others.

Tiponi and her party pressed themselves against the wall as they came to an archway leading into a large room. She judged it to be the source of the smells and sounds. Tiponi waited for the signal from the great bear up front, then hollering a war cry, leapt once more into the heat of battle.


	127. Chapter 127

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Few guards met them there, and only Sorena seemed surprised at the level of undead infestation. The grassy hills and open air, which should have been a holy places of repose, were littered with mindless undead like the ditches and valleys of Tirisfal Glades. Strellabelle nodded quietly to herself. This was related to something else Varimathras had told her. Perhaps if she shared her quest with Hyzanthlay, the bloodthirsty creature would calm down a bit. At the moment, she and the priest were poking through the gravestones.

"I heard the pickings were good here," for the moment, Hyzanthlay's hunger had subsided. Her cheeks and chin were splattered with blood, and it covered her chest and waist. She took no note of her messy condition as pawed through the mossy dirt, pulling up the roots of a rank, soggy plant.

"Why...so many? Has the Monastery really become so corrupt?" Sorena looked mournfully over the gravestones, many of which were mutilated or damaged somehow.

"It doesn't surprise me," Hyzanthlay smiled as she pulled some purple and grey roots out of the ground. They smelled foul. "They were rotten from the core years ago."

"Some powerful priests and paladins were trained here," Sorena continued. "Many still roam these halls. If we fail against them, they have the power to destroy us forever. Why have they not put the dead to rest?"

"The Scarlets forgot the path of the Light long ago," the warlock spat, as she tied the herbs into a neat bundle. "Assuming they ever knew it."

Kohanna sniffed the ground, then turned to where the warlock and the priest were. They seemed to have stopped searching for plants and were returning to them. They were about to pass a dark alcove that neither seemed to have taken notice of.

On the contrary, Hyzanthlay could smell an exquisite mixture of warm blood and rent flesh. Humans close to death and in pain. Sorena was saying something and seemed deeply concerned. In that moment she was not her usual attentive self. The warlock saw the occupied torture racks and moved towards them like a wave towards a beach. She did not make any note of the Interrogator until he turned to face her, and even then her plans did not deviate past the throbbing vain in his forehead.

Not a trace of fear or disgust flashed across his face when he looked at her. He actually looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he spoke.

"Wilhelmina,", he said, as if he knew her.

Hyzanthlay froze, then stopped midstride. What had he called her? His high squeaky voice made her dead skin rise in gooseflesh. He reached tentatively towards her chest.

""This time, Miss Mina," Interrogater Vishas whispered, "I'll rip the secrets from your flesh..."

The Bear crashed into the alcove, knocking Vishas aside. Hyzanthlay was thrown against Sorena, who was knocked off balance and barely dodged a charging voidwalker. Strellabelle hung back, but she was concentrating her dark power on Vishas. Tiponi had lunged forward as well, keeping two of the Interrogator's lackey's busy.

Hyzanthlay made a strange glutteral noise as she rose up from the ground and threw herself at Vishas. She was yelling something in a language none of them could understand.

It was too late; Strellabelle's affliction spells and the Druid had done their work, and the Interrogator lay dead. Tiponi had almost finished their opponents off singlehandedly. All turned to finish off the guards. All but one.

Hyzanthlay remained, kneeling on Vishas' chest. She clutched him by the throat and was shaking him, as if somehow he would understand the stream of Gutterspeak curses and would answer her. Blood dribbled silently from his mouth as if to mock her. Sorena shook her head and held up her hands in a hopeless gesture. Kohanaa finally broke his silence.

"By the gods," he growled, returning to his Tauren form and casting a few healing spells on himself, "will one of you put a tether on this...on your kindred? I am no coward but I have no wish to perish here."

Strellabelle was barely listening. She had hit Vishas as aggressively as possible. She had been warned that one of them would know something. Curiosity about her former existence had distracted Hyzanthlay for long enough. Here, in the Monastary, she would finally be broken. All of her power would belong to the Clan of the Fallen.

"Sorena," Strellabelle looked at the Priest and spoke as if giving an order. "You have some shadow power. Get her off of him and shut her up."

Of course, Sorena did not act immediately. Mind Control was a brutal and painful spell. She was reluctant to cast it on an ally, even one that was being troublesome.

"I will not," Sorena answered. "I am not under your orders."

"You are Forsaken, are you not?" The warlock hissed, drawing closer to the priest and straightening her back so she looked down at the diminutive Sorena.

"I am." Sorena replied, and her clam, soft voice grew hard and cold. "And I have refused the invitation the Clan extended, therefore I..."

"Will you refuse an order from the Dark Lady and Varimathras?" Strellabelle spat. She drew closer and her voice became a threatening whisper. "I know she was lying about you, Sorena."

"You...can't threaten me," Sorena spoke quietly, but without fear.

Strellabelle cackled wickedly.

"Certainly not," she said, "But as for your precious, wee bearn...well, the next time, it might not be such a friendly warlock that lies in wait on your rooftop."

Sorena's pale face twisted, the glow in her eyes faded as if in an admission of defeat. She bowed her head and stepped forward, and Strellabelle stepped aside, barely containing the wide grin on her face.

The Priest said nothing as she walked towards Hyzanthlay, who was oblivious to all that surrounded her. She whispered something, and extended her arms toward the screaming warlock.

Hyzanthlay did not stop suddenly. She gagged and choked, as if struggling to keep yelling. Her body jerked upward, as if drawn by a string. Sorena pushed one hand forward and drew the other back. Hyzanthlay stood bolt upright, her mouth hanging open and her tongue frozen. Her face was a mask of devastating agony.

The Priest looked up at her for a moment, and their eyes locked. Hyzanthlay's orbs burned with resentment and accusation. Sorena stared back, determined but apologetic.

"Hyzanthlay," Strellabelle spat, "Stay behind the bear from now on. That's an order."

Hyzanthlay hissed and choked, struggling to speak. Her arms shook violently as she tried to raise them. Blood and bile bubbled down her chin. Strellabelle frowned.

"More," she hissed at Sorena. The Priest's orbs glimmered with defiance but she did not look away from her target.

"Do it, _now_," Strellabelle whispered, her voice betraying some urgency.

Sorena extended her fingertips slightly, and Hyzanthlay's body convulsed violently. She choked and wheezed, then her head fell and she started to make a funny sputtering sound.

"Hyzanthlay," Strellabelle barked, "That's an order!

Hyzanthlay's head fell, and her shoulders shook. Sorena lowered her arms and Hyzanthlay's now limp body sank to the ground. She crouched there for a moment before raising her head and meeting Strellabelle's gaze. A thin string of drool extended from her lip as she slowly nodded her head and wheezed slowly.

Strellabelle smiled, and for a moment enjoyed the satisfaction of controlling both the Priest and the Warlock.

"Good," she said. "Now do as I say, starting with wearing this," she pulled a tabard from her pack and threw it on the ground in front of Hyzanthlay. "You need a constant reminder."

"Release her," Strellabelle turned away as she spoke, barely looking at the Priest as she motioned to the Tauren. If they felt any shock or disgust they didn't show it.


	128. Chapter 128

Tiponi crouched low as the Forsaken argued. The way was clear for now, all threats to her party eliminated. She knelt close to a human body and began to wipe the blood from her weapon on his tunic. Tiponi regarded the Forsaken over her shoulder. There was something going on between the others and she couldn't quite understand it. Hyzanthlay seemed to lose it at one point. She broke down and began screaming gibberish. Now she had recovered, but something was strange. Her friend was not quite, herself. She was just standing there, putting that tabard on with a dumb look on her face and bubbles blowing out of her nose. _Something weird is definitely going on... Maybe it's this place? Maybe we've been infected by something? Maybe... whatever has come over me has affected Hyzanthlay._

Tiponi began to rise. She intended to reach out a hand to comfort her confused friend, but as she rose pain exploded down her leg. She yelped in agony, it had happened so fast that the others had not begun to move. The undead were gathered together as Kohanaa scouted their next route, when suddenly the dead man at Tiponi's feet proved he was not spent after all. He jabbed a white-hot metal pole into her flesh. It made a sizzling sound and stank of burnt meat and fur. After that split second of pain Tiponi kicked him away. It was a torture implement of some kind. Used to cause pain, to deliberately hurt. She growled in a low tone. This creature had used that weapon on bound, defenceless opponents, and he didn't even have the decency to give them an honourable death! She roared in his face as he came at her with the hot metal poker. She waited for him. At the last moment, when he jabbed his implement forward to sear her flesh once more, Tiponi turned aside. With one deft movement she turned about and forced him to continue forward. His momentum carried him into the wall where he encountered a wall hanging. Swiftly Tiponi bundled him and the tapestry up, wrapping him in the ancient dry material. He struggled for a moment inside the tight little roll she had trapped him in.

"I hope you appreciate the irony." She told him as she plucked a candle from its stand and lit the fabric. The material was old and quite combustible. The man was swiftly encased in flame and he began to squirm and writhe, screaming as he burned. His shrieks of agony echoed down the corridor as Tiponi stood and regarded his demise without a flicker of emotion.


	129. Chapter 129

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Watching Hyzanthlay writhe in pain and then crumple to the ground like a defalted balloon did not give Tiponi any relief or satisfaction. She had always wondered what, if anything, could possibly stop such a creature. She had a new respect for this Priest, and the fearsome power that she could wield despite her small stature, the ultimate powers of both Light and Darkness. And yet, even in her undead state, Sorena had chosen the Light.

Strellabelle walked back first, followed by Sorena and the Druid. Tiponi waited for a moment as Hyzanthlay got up and swayed slightly before putting her tabard on. She did not raise her eyes and said nothing.

The party was silent as they walked back through the carnage they had created. The hallways that had been filled with human screams and moving bits of steel were now eerily silent. The rank odour of blood and sweat permeated the air. Strellabelle and the Druid moved to the front, but Sorena seemed to deliberately lag behind until she was level with Hyzanthlay. As soon as her back was to them, Tiponi heard a snarl, and the unmistakable sound of one undead grabbing the other. She looked over her shoulder and saw Hyzanthlay, still drooling slightly, having some rather harsh words with Sorena. The Warlock had grabbed the Priest by her shoulder and was hissing something in her face. The Tauren did not understand the Gutterspeak, but she did gather that Hyzanthlay hadn't appreciated what had just happened. It seemed a rift had opened between the two undead. Tiponi looked ahead and saw Strellabelle watching the scene. She was smiling, and seemed well pleased by it.

Hyzanthlay had moved slowly while putting on the tabard, asking herself what had just happened. The smell of burning flesh and fur brought her back to her senses and calmed her. As much as she wanted to charge through the monastery, it was not possible to do things her way as long as Strellabelle was holding both her and Sorena by a proverbial leash. But not all was as it seemed. Strellabelle did not wield the control she thought she did, as Hyzanthlay had just learned.

The opportunity presented itself in a matter of moments. Sorena hung back behind Tiponi on purpose, as if knowing what Hyzanthlay was thinking. But the Warlock knew that Strellabelle would be watching, so she had to make it look good.

As soon as the priest was within reach, Hyzanthlay grabbed her by the shoulder and pinned her against the wall. Sorena did not look surprised or frightened but her orbs seemed to widen and glitter more fiercely.

"How did you know? I didn't even remember myself..." She whispered, trying to make her raspy whisper sound hostile, "that I was ticklish?"

"Lucky guess," Sorena`s lips twitched but she managed to repress a smile. Her orbs moved slightly in Strellabelle´s direction. "I knew she wouldn`t know the difference."

"She has to die," Hyzanthlay said bluntly. "It's the only way we`ll both be rid of her...and the Clan."

"What can I do?" Sorena whispered. "The Clan...they know about..."

"It's not what you can do," Hyzanthlay hissed. "It's what you're not going to do."

Sorena's orbs widened, this time in real horror.

"No," she whispered. "I can`t help you that way."

Hyzanthlay bit her cracked lip in frustration. She should have known that Sorena was too good a healer to deliberately let a member of the party die. She turned her head slightly and saw both Tiponi and Strellabelle watching them. She looked carefully at Sorena's face again, and released her rather roughly. She seemed to have succeeded in making the scene look hostile; Strellabelle was smiling and Tiponi looked a bit uncomfortable, but that could be attributed to her recent injury.

Hyzanthlay wasn't sure she could take on Strellabelle herself. However, such a greedy, arrogant creature could be lured into a compromising situation. The impending Library raid would surely hold some interesting possibilities. She was looking forward to the Monastery´s collection of books herself.

And then there was Vishas. She self-consciously touched the space under her neck. Assuming he had not mistaken her for someone else, he had recognized her, even called her by a human name; Wilhemina. That was enough for Hyzanthlay to understand the nature of her hatred for the Scarlet Crusade. She had been tortured by Vishas, but not likely killed. After all, he had used the term, "this time" and spoken to her as if she wasn`t undead. Hyzanthlay was not so crazed not to notice that Strellabelle had targeted him on purpose. But she was not planning on giving up so easily. The Clan had clearly underestimated her resolve. Vishas was important, but still just an interrogator. He was taking his orders from another, and that person would not fall so quickly once he...or she...had been found.


	130. Chapter 130

Kwahu crept slowly through the undergrowth. It had begun to rain in Tirisfal as though the Earthmother herself cried at the sight of such devastation. He thanked her for the distraction, for the humans at the monastery were on their guard. He had received several tips pointing this way, but his hopes were confirmed when he spied a small hoof print in the mud.

"Tiponi." He murmured. He had come far to find her and if his search led him into this human bastion then so be it. His form melted in the rain, shrinking down until he landed with four paws in the earth. He wore the guise of a mighty lion, a proud and stealthy predator. His large paws barely disturbed the dirt as he padded towards the entrance to the human architecture. He snuck past the sentries with ease. Between the sounds of the rain and the flashes of lightning in the distance, their dim human senses could not detect him.

Up he crept through the hallway. He kept to the shadows, his ears flicking this way and that at the slightest noise. He emerged in a large chamber, filled with Scarlet Crusaders. They patrolled this area, heavily protecting the entrance to their inner sanctum. Kwahu sat still in the corner of the room monitoring their movements until he had established a pattern, then, when the time was right he crept outward. There were four passages leading further into the complex, two were barred by doors which he would not be able to get to undetected. He sniffed at the air trying to find a clue, but he could smell nothing beyond the rain and human stink. He randomly picked an archway and padded through.

The stone walls were lit by flickering candlelight, and were lavishly decorated with tapestries and carpets. Armed humans patrolled these walkways vigilantly. Kwahu had to quickly back up as a Scarlet brushed right by him. The human moved on without slowing. Kwahu sighed in relief and lashed his tail. A horrible clatter followed as his tail knocked over a candelabra. The human turned and shouted an alarm. Kwahu cursed himself for his stupidity, it had been going so well! There were over a dozen armed warriors to answer the cry and within moments he was surrounded. He backed into a corner and shifted into his mighty bear form to withstand their blows. Quickly they began to overwhelm him. As the butt of an axe haft descended towards his head, Kwahu's last thoughts were of Tiponi.


	131. Chapter 131

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

The Druid scouted a few paces ahead as they crossed the threshold from the graveyard. They were quietly preparing to pass through the door into the Library. Kohanaa had apparently studied extensively and was not bashful or boastful about his knowledge. Taking no notice of the tensions that had arisen between the undead, he was adamant that they be prepared to face the Beastmasters that guarded the hallways and archways leading to the Gallery of Treasures. Strellabelle seemed to take special note of this. Hyzanthlay pretended to be angry and sullen, but was listening carefully.

The books. In the frenzy that had taken hold of her upon entering the monastery, she had forgotten them. She had to admit, she had not been interested in them at first. She still carried a vivid memory of the book she had clutched in the Shallow Grave, the one that had given her a new name. Every book she touched now seemed to vibrate with an old memory, like a dream that she had forgotten upon waking. Perhaps this was why she was rather disinterested in books now. Her training was mostly demonstrative, and the undead warlocks saw little use in putting their teachings or discoveries in writing, another way they were distinct from mages who seemed obsessed with it. Apothecary Zraedus had cautioned her against disregarding written literature, especially if she ever had access to a treasure trove like the Library of the Scarlets. The Forsaken did not prioritize recording their memories, as they were free from such mortal shackles as sentiment or time. In her sudden sobriety, his words returned to her.

"The Clan has a number of mages in their ranks," he had said. "Strellabelle will no likely raid the library for their benefit, but not for them solely. There might be a great deal of information for warlocks as well."

"I don't need a book to tell me how to aim and burn," Hyzanthlay had laughed through a cloud of smoke. "She's welcome to the collection if she wants it."

"Any information valuable to the Clan would be valuable to you," Zraedus had cautioned. "Allow her to take what she wants, but I caution you, do not ignore what interests her."

Hyzanthlay's thoughts were interrupted by the other warlock, who was speaking to her in a diminutive tone as if she was still senseless and crouched on the floor.

"You will assist us with your imp," she said quietly, without looking directly into her face. "I will be using my succubus to distract any undesirables that our Tauren are too busy for."

The Library wing was accessible through a narrow corridor with two sharp corners. Kohanaa cautioned the party with a silent nod, and sniffed cautiously around the corner. He withdrew his shaggy head and took a deep breath, his hulking shoulders swelling and his lip curling. The other party members readied themselves, and he charged into the open corridor. The carnage began again.

The Beastmasters were troublesome, as they always had a large, vicious dog as a pet. But there were many users of the Holy Light, and even though such powers could also seriously harm any combatant, the undead had to be especially cautious. The chaplains and adepts had to be dispensed with especially quickly. Hyzanthlay proved her worth in the corridor leading to the Huntsman's Cloister. Her shadowbolts and fel fire dispensed of the healers amazingly quickly. Strellabelle was obviously slightly annoyed with being upstaged but could not contain how impressed she was. The spells of an affliction warlock were just as destructive but more time consuming; she was also taking more time to rein in her demon. She wasn't sure why, but the atmosphere of the monastery seemed to affect the succubus in a similar way to Hyzanthlay. The creature seemed anxious to move on and kept giggling uncontrollably.

The crowds thickened as they reached the heart of the Huntsman's Cloister. The corridor made a sharp left turn and opened up to a courtyard. The group at the end was large and troublesome. Word of the raid was spreading through the monastery, and their opponents were getting more strategic in their attacks. Sorena was fast on her feet and nigh invisible, but it was getting more difficult to avoid her attackers. Most of the fighters, with the exception of the Beastmasters, had spellcasting abilities and were now deliberately targeting their healer. Hyzanthlay took it upon herself to head these off. With Kohanaa, Tiponi and Strellabelle leading, and Hyzanthlay staying near the priest at the rear, she was often out of sight in the thick of battle. She no longer charged in but hung back as Strellabelle had ordered.

She now quietly raided the bodies for hearts of zeal – and refreshment – when the Druid was done with them. This also made it possible for the warlock and the priest to catch the occasional discreet word.

"She's after something," Sorena said softly in Hyzanthlay's ear as she flashed behind her, healing both the Druid and the Warrior in quick succession. Her grey robes drifted across the walls and floors like smoke driven in a high wind.

"The books," Hyzanthlay cast Immolate on an Adept who was targeting Sorena. She kept her voice at a whisper and did not look at the Priest as she spoke.

"I don't think so," Sorena replied, ducking behind Tiponi's elbow. "Something about a mission for the Dreadlord."

Hyzanthlay was not surprised. She was sure that there would be a specific mission to be accomplished here, more than just raiding and devastation. Of course the leaders would have to be hunted down and killed, as Arugal had been. Strellabelle had thrown an inner hissy fit when compelled to share the glory of killing the Archmage of Shadowfang Keep. Perhaps that was why she had been so stingy with this latest quest. The importance of Shadowfang Keep was pale in comparison to the Scarlet Monastery. The greedy Affliction warlock surely wanted the glory all to herself this time. Hyzanthlay scowled and cast another Immolate spell on an arrogant Gallant, who was being too liberal with his Holy Smite. How much longer would she have to put up this façade of unwavering obedience before Strellabelle would reveal her secret quest?

They crossed the threshold and entered the open air. The grounds were littered with Beastmasters and spellcasters of all kinds, all of which must have been alerted to her presence by now. They took a moment in the dark threshold. The whole courtyard would have to be cleared as quietly as possible. Apparently there was someone important in a room to the south, someone so important that they had to die. The group was instructed to stay as close together as possible. Then they broke out of the shadows and attacked.


	132. Chapter 132

For the third time in as many minutes, Hamilton Pearce stifled a yawn. The guard shift was tedious business and he was counting the minutes until he could retire. He could really do with a visit to the johns. The work was almost as boring as Brother Lemont's sermons. Well, maybe not quite... But at least there he could ogle the priestesses as a distraction. Here he paced the length of the courtyard, nodding to four stationary guardsmen at the corner points, then he reversed his direction and did it all over again. He couldn't help but glance once again at the sundial. The shadow had not moved since the last time he has passed it. Half an hour, and then he could retire. Perhaps he could ask Priestess Clarissa for a private session to discussion the finer points of _"The Three Virtues of the Holy Light"_. He grinned as he fondly remembered her soft bosom.

A clattering noise returned his attention to the present. He spun on the spot, tightening his grip on his sword and hefting his heavy shield. Could it be that he would actually see some action today? Surely no one would be foolish enough to assault the Scarlet Monastery. As he turned he saw a giant horned bear loping into the room and swiping at the guards with a hefty paw. Hamilton started as more figures appeared behind the huge grey animal. Three Scourge crept into sight and began to hurl bolts of their cursed magic into his fellows. A female Tauren came charging through in the wake from their blasts, closing with his Brothers in melee.

The Tauren woman was his closest target. She wore segmented heavy armor that deflected his allies' blows, but her primitive weapons were no match for their plate metal either. Hamilton yelled for backup, it would not be long until the intruders were over whelmed. And yet, the Crusaders were taking heavy casualties. A fetid Scourge-woman fired bolts of corrupt shadow magic into his brethren between gouts of flicking hellfire. Another Scourge minion blasted curses at their screaming faces.

Hamilton worked his way through the swirling melee, a blast of shadow magic was deflected by his armor and he found himself squaring off against the Tauren with Brother Michael. The she-cow's spear thrusts only glanced off his armor and the two men began to co-ordinate a flanking manoeuvre. The Tauren's eyes spun wildly, showing their whites. She knew she was surrounded now and could not watch both of them. Then with a bestial holler the woman thrust her spear with all her might and Hamilton's breath caught for a moment as he saw it pierce straight through Michael's armoured mid-section. Hamilton whispered a prayer to the Holy Light for Brother Michael even as he moved to take advantage of the situation. The Tauren's spear had become stuck in Michael's armor and while she was defenceless Hamilton struck hard with his sword. It was a mighty blow- straight and true, the Tauren raised her pitiful hide bucker up at the last moment, but it was not enough to halt his forceful swing. Sword met buckler, cleaving it apart as it continued to bite deep into bone. The woman roared, her arm hanging limp and bleeding profusely. Hamilton readied his stance for the killing blow. He would be merciful, a quick death for a skilled opponent. Time seemed to slow for a moment as he saw the Tauren grasp Micheal's fallen claymore in one large hand and swing it easily at his face as if it were a short sword. He was only vaguely aware as the pain flooded his consciousness that the woman had hacked off his jaw. As he fell to the ground, his awareness beginning to dim, he welcomed the coming of the Light.


	133. Chapter 133

Tiponi roared in agony as the unfamiliar weapon fell from her grasp. From the corners of her eyes she was aware of the warlocks finishing off the last of their opposition, but she only briefly registered the thought before the pain overcame her. Her life's blood was flowing quickly from the gaping wound, making her head throb and spin. There were shards of bone protruding from her forearm, and her hand was not responding. She began to sway on her feet as the undead approached.

"Hold still," murmured Sorela as she reached out a hand, "we need to get this fixed up."

Tiponi began to fumble at her waist for her belt knife with numb fingers, "Stay... back." It was getting hard to make out the shapes of her friends.

"No time." Said the healer as she grabbed Tiponi's wrist and began to cast healing magic. Tiponi shrieked in pain as the bone began to shift within her arm. Her blood vessels closed and finally her skin matted shut. Only a faint pink line hinted that there had ever been a wound there. "All better." said the Forsaken, releasing the Tauren's arm.

Tiponi blinked at her, surprised at the skill at healing she possessed. She opened her mouth to thank the priest but the woman spoke before she had the chance.

"It will take a few days until your strength in that arm has fully returned. Try not to favour it until then."

Tiponi rubbed at her wrist and regarded the ruin of her broken buckler on the floor. It could have been a lot worse.

The other warlock snapped, "Stop wasting time!" and as one the troupe began to move on.


	134. Chapter 134

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

They were nearly overwhelmed this time. Hyzanthlay's grin grew wider as more and more blood splattered on it. She drew her sword and swung it with a vigour that even impressed Tiponi. The party naturally closed in around the healer. The imp babbled and spat, practically sobbing as it threw fireballs from it's hiding place near Hyzanthlay's ankles. The screaming giggle of the succubus was almost drowned out in the clashing of metal and the pitched voices of the Scarlets screaming out their final prayers. Hyzanthlay felt a frenzy coming on again. The faces twisted in determination and fear, the howls of agony and defeat; it was as if the gap in her chest had re-opened and they were filling it with their pain. This was all that she wanted, this was all that she existed for. To be nourished by the horror and hot blood of human beings.

As quickly as it had begun, the frenzy of battle ended. The succubus was barely clinging to life, winding her whip around her wrists and whimpering. Strellabelle snarled at her to be quiet. The imp peeked out from under the robe, only to see his mistress licking the gore from her sword like a greedy child tearing into a corn cob. Kohanaa had returned to his Tauren form and was helping the exhausted priest heal.

They were victorious but their enemies had been many, and everyone in the party was bruised and battered. Usually such a battle resulted in the loss of the demons, as they were expendable. Sent back to their places in Fel after being destroyed on the material plane, their mistresses could simply summon them again. Sorena, however, had managed to keep them all standing for a surprisingly long time. Tiponi, who was laying some impressive waste with her weapon, also seemed to have less and less attention for her own well-being and her extensive wounds were proof of this. Only Hyzanthlay was behaving in an oblivious way towards her injuries, but she could refresh herself very quickly. Killing seemed to put more into her than it took out. Strellabelle also took to some cannabalizism as Sorena's mana came back; it was not her preferred method of healing as it was messy and undignified to say the very least, but any undead could do it.

Some would exist without ever doing so. Sorena ate a bit of the food that Hyzanthlay and Tiponi had given her, then knelt quietly in what was very much like a meditative state as her magical powers replenished. In all the time they would know each other, Hyzanthlay never witnessed Sorena cannabalize anything.

Kohanaa turned his attention to Tiponi, whose eyes were still burning brightly despite her wounds and exhaustion. It was at this moment that Strellabelle slipped over to Hyzanthlay's side.

"Vishas had to die," She said, as if continuing a conversation that had already begun. "The Clan has received orders from the Dreadlord himself."

"You...we have a quest to dispose of the leaders," Hyzanthlay's suspicions had been confirmed.

"Upon returning with proof of our success, Varimathras will reward us handsomely." Strellabelle said nothing of the fame or glory that would outstrip the satisfaction of any award. Possibly because all of it would be for the Clan, and as an individual she could expect none.

"Our next target is the Beastmaster?" Hyzanthlay wasn't interested in Varimathras' rewards. She was interested in what Visha's superiors would have to say about a girl named Wilhelmina.

"He is in a room to the south," Strellabelle replied. "Holding out, it seems. Perhaps he thinks he has a better chance that way."

The two warlocks shared a gutteral chuckle at this suggestion, and for a moment it was like old times between them.

Sorena rose quietly and gracefully from the ground in a single movement. Strellabelle left Hyzanthlay's side without another word and moved towards the Druid. In the moment she looked away, Hyzanthlay caught Sorena's eye and gave the priest a barely perceptible nod.

The priest was ready to continue, steeling herself for the Beastmaster. She understood Hyzanthlay's subtle message. It was confirmed that Strellabelle had a quest to kill the leaders, and one was just ahead. Sorena kept an eye on Hyzanthlay, but she seemed to be listening intently to something and made no attempt to tell her any more.

All five were ready to jump into the fray again. The Cloister seemed devoid of human life now, although littered with its remains. Hyzanthlay felt a strange whisper in her ears, and remembered the ghost from the desert.

_Wisdom is found on the desolate hillside, where no grass grows, where the rabbit scratches a hole in vain._This was another apparition, hissing at her from the halls of the monastery. The graveyard had been littered with them, in particular the spot by Vishas. It seems she had picked one up, and for the first time wondered if other Forsaken possessed a similar talent. Its voice was strangely soothing, and the sound of it seemed to slake her mysterious thirst.  
_  
And you, spirit, she thought, did you die by his hand as well? _  
_  
Wilhelmina,_ it said, ignoring her question,_ the book, Wilhelmina. _

There was a moment of profound silence. The baying of dogs, the cries of warning, the clank of metal; it was all drowned out by the ghostly whisper and swept over her ears like a heavy wave.

_You can be what you want to be, but you can`t change the course of your destiny._


	135. Chapter 135

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay raised her head and saw Strellabelle making a sweeping motion with her hand. The baying of dogs was echoing from the stone walls again. It seems the plan was a simple one; storm the room, distract the animals, mortally wound the Beastmaster as soon as possible. The voice in her head fell silent.

Only Kohanaa caught a glimpse of Loksey before the actual fighting began. He was alone but for two hulking, scruffy hounds that charged the moment he moved. He knew he was outnumbered, and that the shaggy Druid he could see in the shadows was a herald of the Light, come to bring him to his eternal rest.

"Release the hounds!" Loksey cried, drawing his own weapon, barely containing the horror and desperation that was shining in his eyes.

Strellabelle had changed her demon; it was now a voidwalker, and it attacked one of the dogs. Tiponi tackled the other. Hyzanthlay concentrated on both dogs, who were staring hungrily at the Priest even after they were blinded by their own blood and burning fur. The dogs were tough and fought to the death, but after they had been reduced to puddles of gore at their feet, Loksey was not much of a challenge. Considering the time and energy that they had drained to reach him, the Beastmaster's defeat had been a rather disappointing climax. Little of value was found on the body, so Hyzanthlay was allowed to take his heart for her collection. She also picked up a rather shabby looking dog whistle. She grinned and thought of her little friend in Duskwood.

The group became quiet, almost sullen, as if this victory had brought no pride or comfort. Sorena was easily able to heal without Kohanaa's help as they moved on. They met with little or no resistance as they moved through what remained of the cloister to the next section. It was assumed that most remaining forces would have pulled back to the Armory and the Cathedral to consolidate their forces. They were prepared to be met with some hold-out fanatics or priests on their way, but the path to the Gallery of Treasures was now open to them.

At first glance, the Library wing had little to indicate that it was organized in any way. There was no decimal system, no card catalogue. Upon confirming that the place was virtually deserted, each party member silently acknowledged this was the moment that they had been waiting for. Strellabelle was the first to slink off, as if she knew exactly where she was going. Sorena lagged behind in a strange way; for the first time since entering the Monastary she seemed conflicted.

As Hyzanthlay walked along the dark hallway, she scanned the plaques that were affixed to each shelf and realized the Gallery was divided into sections. Each section was named after a natural landscape of some kind. The first one was named Abandoned Desert, and Strellabelle had gravitated towards these. No doubt looking for information on demons. If what Varimathras had theorized was true, and the Scarlet Crusade's upper ranks had actually been infiltrated by representatives of the Burning Legion itself, the evidence could be here. She smiled appreciatively as she passed by the next, which was called Forsaken Valley. Perhaps information about the undead and the Scourge, even the Lich King himself. The next few shelves seemed to contain books about the Holy Light and human history, and had a less devastating name, Lonely Mountain. He next plaque made her stop in her tracks.

It said,

DESOLATE HILLSIDE

Hyzanthlay peered between the tall, imposing shelves. This section was for periodicals and maps. A tall, thick shelf was filled to the ceiling with fat, ebony bound books. The spine of each was marked with a golden letter a city and the name of a city. Many cities and letters had more than one book dedicated to them, but there was only one for "Andorhol, W". Hyzanthaly tore it off the shelf and quickly turned her head to listen for any approaching warlocks. Satisfied that Strellabelle was still busy in with the demonolgy books, she greedily tore it open.

The entries consisted of lists and lists of names and locations by alphabetical order. As she had hoped, there were entries listed by first name only. There was more than one entry under the name she was looking for, but one said;

Wilhelmina, resident of Corrin's Crossing. Suspected of fraternizing with or endeavouring to fraternize with dark magicks, including but not limited to the Burning Legion. Currently a person of importance. Questioned regarding missing and stolen literature.

This entry was quite typical; it didn't take much to be a "suspect" as far as the Scarlet Crusade was concerned. In fact, many of the entries contained details about subversive books. It crossed her mind to look up Torch Boy but she realized that she didn't know his name.

Hyzanthaly felt a movement next to her. She turned and expected to see a cobweb or a bit of dust. Instead, she saw Sorena's bright orbs glittering in the shadows. The Priest was light on her feet indeed. She had heard or sensed nothing of her movements.

"She's picked up something about Feralas," she whispered, this slipped past her and towards the books of the Holy Light.

The volume was too big to take. Hyzanthlay tore a handful of pages out of the volume and stuffed them in her pocket. Feralas? A rank night elf haven on the far side of the western continent. What could she want with that? But she was already going through the maps as Strellebelle's footsteps sounded nearby. They were mostly of either places where the Scarlet's had strongholds, or areas like the Blasted Lands or Felwood that had a well-known and strong demonic presence. Hzanthlay did not know if Feralas was one of these, but there was a single map of the area there. It had a predominantly marked area almost in the middle called Dire Maul.

Hyzanthlay raised her eyebrows. She understood what Strellabelle was after.

The other warlock came around the corner. Hyzanthlay was looking at a detailed map of Lordearon, drawn up before Lady Sylvanas had built Undercity.

"The Priest is nearby, go see what she's doing." she motioned in a general direction and did not look directly at the warlock as she quietly gave her order.

Hyzanthlay said nothing, but obediently slipped towards the Lonely Mountain. She found Sorena kneeling in a candlelit corner, surrounded by piles of colourful books. She had a strange smile on her face as she was thumbing through one that had a rather festive cover. As she saw Hyzanthlay approach, she held it up so she could see the title. It was a children's book called, "The Secret of Dancing Troll Village." The cover had a silvery grey and red border, framing a picture of several trolls dancing under a starlit sky. It seems that human history included children's literature, even if it was only one small shelf. Even now, in this place, Sorena was thinking of her son. This was something she intended for him. Hyzanthlay sighed and felt that bad taste come back to her mouth.

"You have no use for these books yourself?" Hyzanthlay was incredulous. She was already thinking of what lie to tell Strellabelle.

Sorena's reply was an interesting one, to say the least.

"I've already seen most of them," she whispered. "I've been here before."

Hyzanthlay had suspected that Sorena had trained in some high profile places. And she did seem to know her way around. When Arthas had been a young prince, the Scarlets were seen as strict but not fanatical, and their knowledge and training had been highly sought by many a priest and paladin. How many of Sorena's mentors and teachers were still here? No wonder the sight of the overrun graveyard had struck her as a disturbing surprise. The warlock took a quick look around before speaking. Strellabelle was visable some paces away, conferring with the Druid.

"How well did you know Whitemane and Morgraine?" She knelt next to her and pretended to be absorbed in the bookshelf.

"Quite well, actually," Sorena whispered, dropping her eyes to the floor.

"They will know you when they see you," Hyzanthlay whispered.

"Perhaps," the Priest replied. Hyzanthlay could tell she was hoping against hope that they would not.


	136. Chapter 136

There was a horrible groaning noise and a strange blurry light. Kwahu tried to yell at the noise to be quiet, but when his body groggily failed to respond realisation began to return to him. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light. He was bound on a stone slab by leather straps wrapped around his limbs. His head throbbed with a dull ache and his mouth tasted like ash. Shapes resolved slowly into the forms of humans before his eyes. One, a scarred individual with a mop of dirty red hair had the obvious signs of insanity in his eyes.

The mad human spoke, obviously addressing him with his gestures. "Ador! Bor forthis nagan. Lon vos danavandar va?"

Kwahu grunted and tested the strength of his bindings. His arms and legs had been stretched out and were shackled into place. It was difficult to get any leverage.

"NE!" The insane human squealed and thrust a hot poker into Kwahu's side. Kwahu roared in agony and the human smirked in satisfaction. Other humans had come over to watch with fascinated expressions. The dimness in his head began to be diminished by the pain and Kwahu embraced it. He focused not on the humans, or the various instruments of torture hanging from the ceiling above him. He focused on his pain and the warmth of anger began to kindle. He roared, thrashing against his bonds. Most of the humans leapt back, except for the mad one. The human with wild eyes laughed and lashed out again with his burning instrument. Kwahu welcomed it. Agony seared his flesh and he transformed it into his righteous fury. The sweet adrenalin of rage pumped through his veins and the Great Bear spirit answered his plea. His form shifted, his wrists widening and his fur growing swiftly until the shackles cut into his flesh. Still his body expanded until with a groan the metal snapped and Kwahu ripped his limbs free. The other humans ran screaming in terror, but the mad one was too close. Kwahu enveloped his head in his jaws and pulled.


	137. Chapter 137

The fighting was over, for the moment. Tiponi took the time to rest while the Forsaken rummaged through the bookcases of the Scarlet Monestary. She slumped in a human chair that was too small for her and left her new-found sword on the table. Her old spear that she had carried with her since her rites so many moons ago had broken upon the body of a Scarlet Crusader. She was leaving so much behind. First her armor, then her weapons... and her people. She had left them first. She sighed as she listened to the Forsaken. These books were no use to her. She could not read the human tongue.

For the first time in many months Tiponi began to think of home. She remembered Fala, smiling widely as she brought out fresh-baked spiced bread. Her father, beaming at her as he carved the meat from his latest kill. And Kwahu. She missed the mischievous look he would get on his face when he would ask her to join him in play under Mu'sha's light. Tiponi began to feel a lump in her throat of she thought of her family. They must be missing her greatly. Did they think she was dead? Did they hold a funeral for her? Had they moved on with their lives? Tiponi breathed deeply, now was not the time to get nostalgic. But it was true. She missed her family and her home. She missed the soft summer breeze sweeping across the plains, the dances around the bonfire and the love of her family. She had left for adventure, and she had found it. Perhaps it was time for her to return home, to her people. She smiled, yes, she would be going home soon.

But first, she had unfinished business. She glanced around the room at the Forsaken pillaging the room. Books and papers were scattered everywhere. Tiponi wished they would hurry up so she could get out of here. She had not seen a single garden since she entered this place... Only sterile halls and empty training grounds.

"Could you please..." she stopped mid-sentence as her eyes caught upon a painting hanging above the shelves. She rose from her seat and began to move towards it. There was a human in the picture, but strangely it was one she recognised from somewhere. _That's not possible,_ she stifled the thought, _I don't know any humans._ But there was still something oddly familiar about this one. The woman stood in front of a large building, with steps and a red carpet leading up towards huge doors. The building itself towered above the others, ending in a pointed peak. Between the oddly familiar human and the cathedral was a garden bed, blooming with flowers of brilliant colours only a painter's fancy could capture. Tiponi stared at the painting until the sounds of the Forsaken returned her mind to the present. She turned to Kohanaa as she pointed.

"I need to go there."


	138. Chapter 138

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay changed the subject.

"Does the name 'Xoroth' mean anything to you?" Her voice was so low that even Sorena could barely hear it.

For a moment the Priest squinted with confusion. Then her eyes widened with a sudden recognition, but before she had a chance to reply a shuffling was heard nearby. The warlock did not stop to see who it was. She immediately rose up and walked towards Strellabelle. The Affliction warlock was flanked by a succubus again, and was looking at her rather expectantly.

"Nothing of importance," Hyzanthlay shrugged. "Human history and maps."

"I have what I was looking for," Strellabelle announced. "We can move on."

Hyzanthlay was not so bold as to think Strellabelle would share her reading material with her, but she already knew what it was. This made the Destruction warlock curl her lip in vicious resentment. From what she had heard only the most powerful warlocks were worthy of what she pursued. Strellabelle was not only selfish to keep it from her, but also underhanded. So, Strellabelle was afraid of honest competition. Hyzanthlay sneered with disappointment. When they ravaged the Scarlet Crusade in Tirisfal Glades she had not noticed these traits.

Perhaps the Clan had pried it out of her. Either way, Hyzanthlay had already decided that she would also have a Dreadsteed.

Tiponi was now the impatient one. She was speaking rather breathlessly to Kohanaa, pointing to a painting on the wall. She also seemed to be favouring her off-hand. Kohanaa acknowledged her request, but Strellabelle was reticent. She did not seem to feel there was a need to continue to the Arcanist. His hapless life was apparently not worth anything to the Dreadlord. Sorena, who had remained silent this whole time, quietly interjected.

"We cannot proceed unless Doan is killed," she said firmly.

You Strellabelle turned and glared at her. Sorena met her gaze and continued.

"The Archanist must be killed," she repeated firmly. "He possesses the Scarlet Key. The strongest forces have fallen back, and the last two wings of the monastery will be locked to us now."

"You would know, as you roamed these halls in life," Strellabelle revealed this openly, not only to single the Priest out but also to boast about her own knowledge of her fellow party members.

"Acanist Doan will not fall easily," Kohanaa said. "He is an arcane mage of unspeakable power. We must be cautious." And his eyes rolled heavily towards Tiponi and Hyzanthlay. The warlock rolled her shoulders in annoyance. Tiponi shifted on her heavy hooves impatiently.

They moved on without another word.

The dark hallways were filled with alcoves and small rooms, plenty of hiding places for Monks and Diviners who were waiting to ambush them. But their numbers were scattered; the holdouts were obviously the more fanatical of the Library residents, and seemed to have resigned themselves to a quick death. As they neared the residence of the Archanist, they became more numerous and determined. The Gallants and Chaplains were troublesome, but Hyzanthlay and Tiponi kept them in check, well away from their healer. Books still lined the walls, and many others were out on display. Strellabelle was openly perusing them in their quieter moments. Hyzanthlay tried to pretend that she wasn't interested, but was watching the other warlock carefully from the corner of her glowing orbs.

Not much was known of the fearsome Dreadsteeds, and the Dreadlords were silent about the secrets of their homeworlds. Xoroth was one planets the Burning Legion called home, and there resided the demonic mount. It was a creature of evil and blight, a hideous thing that breathed smoke and consumed ash, that tore across the material plane with a speed and fire that would outstrip any other living mount in Azeroth.

_It will be mine,_ the warlock thought fiercely, glaring at Strellabelle, who was more or less oblivious to her now. _Oh yes, it will be mine._


	139. Chapter 139

Her hoof-falls on the tiles clopped loudly to her ears. Her companions did not speak, Tiponi gathered that they had found what they were looking for. They made their way toward the sanctum at the end of the library quarter, what the Forsaken seemed assured was the Arcanist's study. This particular human seemed to be of great importance to the Scarlets and the warlocks insisted that he had to die. _Fine by me._

It had taken a lot to come this far, and she was not the only one to have taken injuries. The Forsaken didn't look particularly weary, but from Tiponi's own experience with magic users she knew that they tired out eventually. Once they did, they were just about useless. It was imperative that they move quickly. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears, in rhythmic time to her hooves. Tiponi kept looking over her shoulder. Despite there being no enemies in sight she had a strange feeling like they were being watched. Her shoulder blades seemed to itch and she kept turning around, as if expecting the Scarlets to swarm down on them at any moment. None came. She could hear something at the edge of her perception, faint like the wind rustling through leaves or a voice whispering her name. But nothing. She was beginning to get edgy as they approached the sanctum. They hid against the wall to avoid being seen. The Arcanist was in there, but he did not seem to be aware of the trouble approaching. He was surrounded by a pile of books, and there were full bookshelves lining the walls to the very ceiling. The man was a rather ordinary looking human, dressed in red scarlet robes. She could not make out his features behind a book held to his nose. She turned to the others, ready to organise their attack.

"He dies now." Strellabelle hissed and strode out to meet him.

_Here we go._ Tiponi began to feel the rush of warmth and excitement flow through her at the anticipation of battle. Finally the human noticed their presence as the undead strode into his room, grinning wickedly. He jumped up, spilling a pile of books from his lap and he shouted something in his strange tongue. The warlock fired a bolt of dark magic at him before he finished his sentence.

Tiponi did not wait to see if the others joined her. Roaring a battle cry she raced towards the man, her weapon in hand. It was the thrill, the rush, the sheer adrenaline pumping through her veins that she relished. This man was nothing to her, just someone who had to die. Someone she could work her own special magic on. As she neared the human she aimed her sword-thrust right at his heart. It would be over too quickly, true, but there were plenty more enemies to fight yet and she could not risk him injuring her allies. As her blade reached his blood-red cloth it was deflected by some sort of magical force field around him. It reminded her of that time fighting the Witchdoctor those many moons ago. She grimaced sickly at the memory and growled, "He has magical protection."

"Not for long." Said one of the Forsaken behind her.

Kohanaa snapped his great bear jaws at the Arcanist's shield trying to find an opening. While he was protected the man was firing bolts of magic. Tiponi lunged to the side to avoid a blast straight to her chest. The druid roared, trying to keep the man distracted. Tiponi swung her weapon again, and once more felt it pass harmlessly through naught but air. She growled in frustration. The man then cried out, Kohanaa's jaws had broken through and latched on to the human's leg. The warlocks seized the opportunity to shower him with their spells of pain and agony.

The Arcanist roared and began incanting a spell in his human tongue. "No you don't..." started Tiponi as she brought her weapon high. Before she could swing her blade back down she was swept off her feet and went flying across the room to land against a bookshelf. She felt her bones creak with the impact as she fell back down to the floor and saw her friends equally spread around the room, flung at the walls. She pulled herself back up. She ached from the hard landing, but nothing was broken yet. She then noticed the expressions on her ally's faces. Undead glowing eyes cannot really be said to bulge, but their irritated flashing was about equivalent. The Forsaken were together as one clutching at their throats, mouthing soundlessly. He had silenced them, and now they were just about useless. She looked for Kohanaa, suddenly unable to see his enormous bear form. She heard a strange bleating sound and saw a tiny animal wandering through the fallen books. Her eyes widened when she noticed the tiny Shu'halo horns emerging from its white, fluffy head. The Arcanist had been able to polymorph the druid, and turned him into a pathetic creature. Tiponi braced herself for the charge when she heard a groaning sound behind her. The bookshelf she had fallen into collapsed upon her, showering her with wood and burying her under books. As she struggled to get free she heard the Arcanist chanting another powerful spell. She hurriedly threw a plank of wood off herself but she was unable to get free in time.

A whirlwind of arcane magic formed around the human, tearing pages from books and snuffing out candles. Where it encountered her flesh it burned and tore. Tiponi screeched in pain. She looked at the others about her. The Forsaken were as good as unarmoured in their cloth robes and the druid was still a fluffy...thing. They were being ravaged by the arcane storm as the Arcanist cackled madly in the centre of its swirling depths. Tiponi grit her teeth and charged into the storm. Pushing against the arcane energy was like pushing through a sand storm, and every step she took tore strips of flesh from her exposed skin. She forced herself to keep going, to ignore the pain. One step, then another. When she met the Arcanist at the centre of his spell his eyes widened in surprise. Swiftly she swung her blade and separated the head from his shoulders. His body collapsed to the ground and his spells slowly faded from existence. Kohanaa shook his head and he returned to his natural body, but the Forsaken showed no signs of discomfort. Tiponi's knees gave way and she collapsed amid the ruin of the library.


	140. Chapter 140

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Hyzanthlay glumly recalled their last battle against a mage. It had been dull and predictable. Strellabelle was dragging her feet, her lip was curled in a sneer. She was clearly not thinking about the upcoming battle but still thinking about the books. Hyzanthlay realized she couldn't find what she was looking for. She blinked and realized Sorena was staring at her.

"This one will not fight like Arugal," she cautioned, as if she knew what the warlocks was thinking. "This is a fanatic, a powerful mage that understands the tenants of the Holy Light."

"What will he do?" Kohanaa growled at the thick double doors that rose before them.

"He can use Silence," Sorena said. The mere mention of this spell was enough to make Kohanaa widen his eyes a little.

"He also a master of fire," the Priest continued. "He has a nova spell that is vicious and destructive. If there's any sign of it, you must try to dodge it somehow. I might not be able to help you."

The possibility of a silence spell had sombered the group considerably. Even Tiponi, who had been more anxious then the others to move on, seemed to be more centred. Hyzanthlay felt strangely numb and alone, the absence of the ghostly voice seemed to leave a dull echo in her ears. Her imp was simpering at her feet.

"Stay out of his line of sight, if you can," she spat at the demon, looking desolately in its direction. She wished it was the face of a certain grinning rogue looking up at her and felt a profound heaviness in her hollow chest.

"Okay, okay, okay," it tittered, hopping back and forth nervously.

The doors swung open, and like Arugal's inner sanctum a tall circular room that was revealed to them. Hyzanthlay had time to ask herself why mages liked circular rooms so much, then the battle began.

Archanist Doan began his spellcasting the second that the doors opened. When Hyzanthlay raised her hand and tried to speak, her movements were slowed. Her spells had not been rendered useless, but for a warlock who loved destruction any lag in velocity was like an eternity. Every party member was effected by the slowing spell; luckily some of Strellabelle's affliction spells had already taken hold.

"You will not defile these mysteries! _Burn in righteous fire!_" His voice roared, and began to cast his most devastating spell, Detonation; the fire nova spell.

Each one of them was flung violently around the room. Tiponi seemed to bear the brunt of it's force, as she was thrown into a bookshelf which then collapsed on her. The pile of books actually shielded her from the most destructive part of the spell. While the other party members lay dazed or slowed, she was able to rise from the floor and move towards the mage and the hapless Kohanaa, who now sported a fleece coat to go with his horns. Hyzanthlay watched in admiration and amazement as the Tauren warrior, although badly wounded, lurched towards the mage, managed to rip through his weakened defenses, and with a single decisive swing, she relieved him of his head.

There was a moment of calm as they stood in the burning room, breathlessly taking in what was left of the study. Hyzanthlay had sworn she had looked into his eyes and seen the unholy shimmer of a warlock. He seemed to be just as intent on scorching the entire room as he was them. Only Sorena seemed to be able to move and be fully conscious. She had opened the chest at the far end of the room and was digging through it rather urgently. The fire was burning slowly, but as the flames began to lick hungrily at the edges of the wooden furniture and the heavy books, it seemed to become more daring and run faster.

"There is more here," The priest said, raising from her crouched position. "Herbs and potions. Quickly!"

The party finally snapped into action at the promise of loot. Hyzanthlay only wanted the herbs. Kingsblood, as she had been hoping. She had emptied her bags beforehand, keeping them empty for loot, leaving her cigarette case behind.

As the rest of the party ran for the doors, she walked casually through the fire, rolling a smoke between her fingers. As she walked through the center of the room, she heard another shadow speaking to her. Its voice was starkly familiar. His voice was still tinged with a certain breathless excitement, but this time he was not telling her to burn in righteous fire.

_So, a warlock_, Doan's spirit said. _I can't say I'm surprised, young lady. _

_And impressed, _she answered inwardly._ Did you turn to the arcane because you didn't have the mettle to conquer the powers of Fel? _

The was a moment of silence when all she could hear was the fire roaring in her ears. She lit her smoke with the flames licking at her cheeks and stepped out into the hallway to where her companions were waiting. Tiponi and Kohanaa were closing the door behind her as she slipped out. The wooden doors would burn eventually, but their sheer size would slow the flames long enough for them to finish their messy work in the Armory and Cathedral.

"Hyzanthlay?" Sorena asked, drawn by the strange, blank glare that seemed to emanate from her companions eyes. Every single piece of fabric she was wearing was smouldering.

The warlock looked back at her through a thick cloud of smoke, gave a barely perceptible shrug, then walked past her, puffing away intently.

_You would have been a fine mage, Wilhelmina...you would have studied with Serena, perhaps,_ the Arcanist's ghostly voice was still whispering to her from his fiery tomb.

_Serena,_ she thought. Some names the Undead took were not so different from their names in life. _So, you knew her too._

She was notorious for her skills, he hissed like the wind against the dry grass in the cloister, some of which was burning. _Which have not diminished with her...change. Fascinating. _

Hyzanthlay did not answer. She drew deeply from her cigar and watched her friends moving in front of her. Their pace had quickened; many of the fires she and Strellabelle had set were spreading, and the walkways were littered with broken bodies and lifeless weapons.  
_  
It is not unexpected_, the Arcanist continued. _After all, you took the book. But it was __**her **__book, Wilhelmina. _

_All this for a stupid book,_ Hyzanthlay sneered and snorted a nosefull of thick smoke into her palm.

To her surprise, she heard a snickering laugh echoing inside her head. She looked down at the imp hopping next to her as if to make sure it wasn't just one of his outbursts.  
_  
Officially, it was the book_, Doan snickered. _When Abbendis gave the order, she citied the book. But it wasn't just a book you stole, dear pretty Wilhelmina! No, not just a book! _

Hyzanthlay stopped in her tracks and remembered the image torch flying at her face. The voice inside her head laughed maniacally now, as if seeing the vision in her mind's eye.

The corridor turned sharply and Hyzanthlay seemed to come back to herself. She watched the Druid pass her and open the door. Sorena ran ahead with him, a dark red key hanging starkly at her side next to her grey and white robes. Tiponi also squeezed past her, and Hyzanthlay smiled, sharing her enthusiasm. The Library was for spellcasters, but the Armory was for warriors. Hopefully there were a few things there that would fit her, but there was certainly be a myriad of weapons for her to choose from, ones that would make any warrior proud. The voice had receded, now silent but not likely at rest in what was left of the Gallery of Treasures.

Sorena fumbled with the key. The grace and calm that usually defined her demeanour seemed to have faded. The other two undead were untouched, but Strellabelle still seemed agitated depite their relatively quick fight with the Archanist. Hyzanthlay rolled her shoulders and continued to puff peacefully when she spoke.

"The Armory does not have to be a concern," she said. "We should finish the Cathedral first, while the leaders and their forces are weakened and off guard."

"I understand your concern," the Druid said, as he took her bear form again and began to ready himself. "But if we raid the Armory first, we will draw and thin out the last of the most lethal Scarlet fighters. We will also cut off any remaining access they have to weapons and armour."

"It is better to isolate the leaders before fighting them," Tiponi cradled her heavy weapon, staring almost hungrily at the doors as she did so.

"Your motivation is clear, Tauren," Strellabelle hissed, frustrated to have been outnumbered but willing to go along with the party's will. Sorena's intentions were clear, as she was still struggling with the lock. They heard a metallic click, and the doors swung open.


	141. Chapter 141

The place was a graveyard. Built for that intent, with lines of headstones flanking the walls, its floors now ran red with blood as the leavings of a massacre dotted the grounds. There were bodies everywhere, fresh ones. That no one had come to clean them up suggested to Kwahu that there were none left alive to do so.

"Did Tiponi do this?" He wondered aloud. His hooves stepped over broken human bodies, strewn across the earth. There were so many... Either Tiponi had joined some sort of an army, or she was in the company of some very dangerous individuals. He examined the corpses for a sign of his sister. He could make out the occasional hoof print on the ground, but the marks on the bodies did not look to be made by Tauren weapons.

"Perhaps she is a prisoner." He reasoned. His deep rumbling voice caused a sudden disturbance. Strange noises, soft and clacking seemed to come from all around him. He spun about, eyes darting for their source when he saw a sight that sent a shiver down his spine. The dead were rising. Old rotten corpses began to claw their way out of the graves, while the freshly fallen Scarlet Crusaders reached for their weapons once more. Kwahu growled a curse, he'd had enough of this! The transformation to bear form was an easy one, the anger and frustration in his system yearned to be set loose upon his enemies.

The undead attacked. A wave of rotten limbs and claws hands came at him. Kwahu put his back to the wall and began to fend them off. The newly dead Scarlets still wore their plate armor and some wielded great swords that cut deeply into his flesh. He roared in agony and rage as he tried to strike them down. His large paws raked at a skeleton, scattering the bones. His teeth gouged into a rotten zombie and he spat the foul taste from his mouth as he dismembered the creature. It was no good. There were too many of them. Half of those that he vanquished rose again into a parody of life and came at him with renewed vigour. He bled from many cuts and was beginning to tire. Still they came at him, a never-ending wave of undeath.

"Not like this." He begged the Earthmother, "Please not like this." Then from the corner of his eye he spied something. Amid the waves of undead there was one, a corpse that did not move with the shambling gait of the others. It hid behind a tree, watching the battle with glowing orb eyes. Kwahu cursed his luck, that his life should come to depend upon a Forsaken.

"COME OUT AND HELP ME YOU FOUL CRETIN," he batted a corpse away with his paw, "OR SO HELP ME SHOULD I SURVIVE I WILL HUNT YOU UNTIL THE ENDS OF THE EARTH!" he roared, his bear throat slightly garbling the sound.

The forsaken thing emerged from its hiding place. It was still wearing the plate armor of a crusader and with no signs of rot, the only indication of its undead state were its glowing eyes and missing jaw. The creature grabbed a fallen greatsword and began to hack away at the undead. Kwahu's lifeblood was nearly spent. He whispered a prayer to the Earthmother for just a little more strength and his bear form melted away. He had always found the bear and the lion form to come easy to him, as natural as if he had been born that way, but the healing arts of the druid sometimes escaped him. He prayed that they would not this time. Revitalising energy began to course through his veins as the magic worked. The gaping rents of flesh began to heal and he could feel his strength returning. The undead had not ceased their assault and continued to attack his more fragile Tauren body. The Forsaken defended him, swinging his sword in a wide arc that spoke of years of training with the weapon. When at last the final undead lay unmoving, Kwahu regarded his unlikely saviour.

It was true he hated the undead, but it was also undeniable that he owed this one his life. What to do... He decided to move on as if the entire episode had never happened. "Thanks." Was the only acknowledgement he gave.

The Forsaken began to root around the corpses. Kwahu rolled his eyes in disgust. The creature was only interested in looting the fallen. It began to claw at the face of one of the newly dead. "What are you doing?" asked Kwahu in disgust.

Finally the lower jaw of the body came away and the Forsaken swiftly shoved it into place in its own head. Kwahu was repulsed.

"You're welcome." The thing replied. Its new jaw clicked as it spoke as though it was slightly the wrong size.

Kwahu did not know what to make of it. He could strike this abomination down now, after all there were no witnesses. Yet this one had saved his life, and had proven itself to be a formidable opponent. He regarded the creature, it looked practically human so he could only assume it was recently deceased, perhaps in the recent slaughter of the Monestary.

"I'm looking for my sister, have you seen a female Tauren?" He asked, waiting for the thing to respond.

The thing rubbed its new jaw thoughtfully and replied, "Your sister aye? She's probably the one I have to thank for my current state."

Kwahu's eyes widened. Tiponi had caused some of this slaughter? He regarded the wound on the undead thing. "Well, it looks like she's improved." He smirked. The undead crossed its armoured arms, clearly not impressed. "Well I must be off, I have to find her." Kwahu rose to depart, and as his did the Forsaken moved with him. Kwahu raised his head to peer down at the thing.

"I'm coming with you. I won't be welcome by my old friends here that's for sure." The thing laughed and a glob of congealed blood splattered out of its throat. The Forsaken seemed to regard it with interest. "You're tough," it continued, "if any of my Brothers are still alive you're my best chance of getting past them."

Kwahu regarded the Forsaken through narrowed eyes. He despised the undead with every fibre of his being, but then again, this one _had_ saved him, and two spears were better than one. "Fine," he rumbled, turning to go. "I'm Kwahu."

"Hamilton Pearce at your service my furry friend. Now let's kill us some Crusaders." The Forsaken grinned morbidly with its new jaw and cackled, spitting out another gout of congealed goo.


	142. Chapter 142

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

A group had been waiting for them and surrounded the party almost immediately. Sorena was unprepared for the ambush and was knocked back a few feet. Hyzanthlay was close enough to draw her sword and hack at her opponents between spellcasting. Against the power of the Scarlets in their armory, however, her sword was of little use. It dented the Gallant coming at her, but he brushed her blows aside and thrust his two-handed sword into her stomach. It didn't take much for the large weapon to pierce her boney body. Kohanaa caught him and sent him reeling to the ground, not to get up again. The sword in Hyzanthlay's midriff was quite heavy, and when it's user had let it go, it remained skewered through her midriff and drew the warlock into an awkward kneeling position on the floor. She was still able to cast, and did so while pinned to the ground and surrounded by moving allies and enemies.

They didn't move for much longer. Between Kohanaa's heavy jaws and Tiponi's long reach, it did not take long for the ambush to fizzle and melt into a puddle of gore and blood. Soon there was not a sound to be heard in the hallway, except the faint echo of the metal sword that had skewed Hyzanthlay tapping the floor as she tried to move.

"Tiponi," she grunted, "get _over _here."

The Tauren did as she was asked, but managed to let a sly smile escape her lips as she bent over and gripped the sword hilt.

"And if you tell _anyone _about this," Hyzanthlay snapped, "I'll _roast _your tender behind!"

Tiponi let a grin surface, as if to deliberately tease the undead, and pulled. Hyzanthlay staggered backward, then steadied herself and gave Tiponi a reluctant but vaguely appreciative nod. She took a moment to look for the remains of the cigar, but it was long since knocked from her mouth trampled into the stone floor.

Sorena finished patching up Strellabelle and Kohanaa, who seemed to have taken the brunt of the fighting. This time the succubus had fallen, crushed by the sheer numbers that had fallen upon them. The warlock was unmoved, and decided that her voidwalker was more suited to this environment anyway.

"It would be better to have against Herod," Kohanaa agreed. "The whiles of the succubus will not touch the Scarlet Champion."

They moved on. Hyzanthlay noticed that the Armory was not a long, connected hallway that radiated from a central point, but a series of open rooms lined by pillars and weapon racks. The party could see well in advance but so could their opponents of them. There were not too many of these left, as the ambush at the gate seemed to be the last act of many desperate and militant fanatics. And their illustrious leader, the Scarlet Champion Herod, had not even joined them. Either a coward, Hyzanthlay thought, or a dishonest fanatic. Either way her own personal hatred of the human race was increasing exponentially the more time she spent in this place. It crossed her mind that it might be unfair to judge humanity by such standards, as the Scarlets were notorious for their heartlessness and unwavering faith. However, they had represented the best of humanity once, and this intensified the horror of their fall and betrayal. If the most noble that humanity had to offer could plummet so far, what hope did the common human have? Some things can be worse then undeath, the warlock decided, and spat out a mouthful of rancid gob in satisfaction.

The open rooms and pillars funnelled into a long, tall hallway that was built with a high arched ceiling. The door at the end was the fortress of Herod, the Scarlet Champion and a dangerous adversary. Kohanna had a brief conference with Sorena, who had retained her calm demeanour. Hyzanthlay rightly guessed that this was because she did not expect Herod to recognize her. She might have been introduced to him, perhaps conferred with his students during her studies, but she did not roam the halls of plate and steel. That would have been the realm of her paladin colleagues. His inner sanctum was unique in a certain way. Like the others, it was round. Unlike the others, it was lined by a stairway that spiralled down on both sides, and tapered to a narrow ground floor like a coliseum. It was this stairway, Sorena stressed to the spellcasters, that would save their lives. Or in the case of the undead, preserve their existence.

"I can move quickly enough to avoid his blows, but even I will be holding back," she explained. "This is not some average fanatic. This is Herod, the Scarlet Champion. Once he falls, the occupants of the Cathedral...will be extremely vulnerable."

The Priest paused with a certain amount of dread at the mention of Morgraine and Whitemane. Strellabelle smiled with glee at this admission of vulnerability.

Kohanaa took two steps back and let the warrior open the doors. Herod was waiting for them at the centre of the room, at the very bottom of the stairs.

It immediately became apparent that Herod would not fall like their former great foes. He approached them with a fierce and arrogant determination of one who would not fall. Hyzanthlay smiled, her wide, angry smile, heavy with sharp teeth, and he spoke as if he was reading her mind.

"Ah," Herod declared, striding towards them and drawing an impressive broadsword, "I've been waiting for a challenge!'

Whether or not Herod's ideal challenge included a huge bear with horns, that was the first thing that he got. His arrogance and delusion, reminiscent of humanity's worst qualities, seemed to enrage the Tauren to an even more fervent degree than their Forsaken allies. As the symbol of the military wing of the Scarlet Crusade, it was no surprise that it was the figure of Herod that would bring every member of the party to such an intense emtional response. Hyzanthlay had been murdered by them, Sorena had been weakened, eventually to death, by their failed war against the Scourge. The Library had hidden the knowledge that Strellabelle sought but Herod had held and guarded it, or trained those that did. And how much had the Tauren homeland of Mulgore been scarred and cut by the gluttonous dwarves as their human allies stood and protected them?

"Light, give me strength!" The stones grew slick with Herod's blood, but his own sword was thick with blood that was not his.

"Blades of Light!" He cried, and his weapon spun around, slicing Kohanaa and Tipoini as it cut a circle through the air. It passed through the voidwalker, and the Holy Light hissed through the Fel energy like acid. The creature roared but continued to fight. Sorena was too close; she leapt out of his reach just in time, flitting like a ghost from the stairs to the railing and then back again. Hyzanthlay snarled with satisfaction as his face started to bubble up with scars and boils. She took a deep breath and threw an Immolate at him, then laughed triumphantly as his body burst into flames.

"Light!" His garbled voice yelled, "Light! Give me..."

It was Kohanaa that finished him. He lurched forward, his snout soaked with foam and blood, and sank his massive jaws into Herod's exposed throat. The Scarlet Champion's last breath was a garbled hiss of crushed bone and thick gore. The Druid threw his lifeless corpse down mercilessly. Hyzanthlay looked hungrily at the remains, but hesitated to fall on the body so quickly. She was taking a moment to resent Kohanaa for stealing her signature attack. In her moment of hesitation, Tiponi stepped forward, a greedy light in her eyes that Hyzanthlay had not seen in her before.

"That's a nice axe," she said, carefully crouching next to the body.

But she was cut short by the sounds of feet upon the stairs. About twenty of Herod's fervent allies had arrived, even if it was seconds too late. The Tauren steeled themselves, prepared to destroy their foes even in their weakened state. Hyzanthlay and Strellabelle grinned with sweet anticipation; the love of airborne damage was something all warlocks shared.

A torrent of blazing fire rained down on the hapless fanatics, reducing them to scorching piles of smouldering mush. Not one of them reached the Tauren. Hyzanthlay lit a new cigar and snickered. Sorena seemed to be oblivious to all. She was staring at the burning pile of humanity on the floor with a grave sadness.


	143. Chapter 143

As they made their way towards the Cathedral, their final destination, small skirmishes broke out between the party and the Scarlets. The Crusaders had been beaten and broken, their champion lay in ruined pile of offal and his wicked axe was being wielded by a tauren like a toy. But the Scarlets were zealots, and the prospects of their imminent demise only drove them to further heights of fanatical devotion. The men and women threw themselves at their foes, and were mercilessly torn to shreds by bear claws and teeth or melted with hellfire. Still the humans fought, fear, exhalation and insanity evident in their eyes.

Tiponi strode among them as a god of war. She cleaved left and right, barely pausing to check her handiwork before moving on to the next fleshy target. She growled as she worked, cursing under her breath, and not even her companions alongside her could tell how far away her thoughts were.

As her blow was deflected by a magical shield she snarled in memory of the Witchdoctor. He had died at her hand because she had been told to kill him. She saw a cluster of Scarlets charge towards the party, cut down by streams of purple shadowbolts before they got close, and she was reminded of the tide of trolls. The jungles had run with the blood of ogre and troll that day and she had relished in it. She noticed a wounded warrior crawling beneath her hooves. His bloodied hand shook as it reached for the sword just out of its reach. She grinned and brought her hoof down hard atop his head. It exploded like a melon, splattering brain matter across her bloodied armour. The gnome had squished so easily in the forest, its little ribcage cracking and splintering shards of bone into its tiny heart. She laughed aloud and swung at her next foe, a woman enchanter in robes. They parted as easily as her flesh did as the weapon completed its sweep. They laughed at her, they all laughed like she was some pathetic joke! The guards, that damned cockroach vendor, the goblins, her people. Every fel-forsaken person thought it was just so damned funny. Stupid little tauren, doesn't know any better.

_I will show them all!_

That damned troll had tricked her somehow, she just knew it. The Scarlet she had just impaled spluttered and gaped as blood flowed from his mouth like sweet honey. She watched him for a moment, noticing his last shuddering breath, and she dropped the corpse to the ground to continue fighting.

Oh father I'm so sorry. _Damn him! Damn them all_ I knew it was wrong I shouldn't... _He gave up on me! He never believed..._ He loved Kwahu more than me. _Kwahu!_ He left too. He was chosen, he was special, no time for me. _Better than me_ He laughed, he's happy I'm gone. _No!_ Liar.

"Tipo-"

Tiponi swung wide with her wicked axe towards the Forsaken woman. It bit into spongy blue flesh as she screamed in surprise. The Voidwalker faded into oblivion as Tiponi screamed. The fight was over. The Scarlet bodies on the ground had been butchered in their death beyond recognition. Tiponi was panting heavily, suddenly aware of the blood and sweat flowing down her body.

_What happened? I nearly killed my friends._ They aren't my friends. _I must...apologise..._ Don't show weakness.

"My head..." Tiponi groaned, raising a hand to her temple.

The others began to crowd closer, sharing glances and hushed whispers. Tiponi shook her head, trying to dislodge her headache when she spotted a hint of blue among the red of blood and Scarlet cloth. She bent down and plucked the delicate flower gently. "I've found it..." she whispered, and broke into a fit of giggles.

She folded the delicate blue-petaled rose into a cloth and tucked it safely away inside her armour. _I have it now, everything will be okay, I can make up for the wrongs I've caused._

It was strange, she could almost hear laughter through her throbbing headache.


	144. Chapter 144

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Kohanaa and Sorena had not exaggerated. The minions within the monastery were fierce and desperate, but strangely not as determined or fanatical as the other inhabitants of the monastery. They had the bad habit of running when their wounds began to overwhelm them, and could not always be caught before successfully summoning help. The mere sight of the mail clad Tauren and the horned bear that ran in front of her sent many scrambling in abject terror. Many times they were nearly overwhelmed, as they had been when entering the Armoury. But Sorena was fast and vigilant. Even the demons did not fall.

The great open expanse that opened before the Cathedral did not give the party the opportunity to approach their prey with any kind of strategy. The demons were useful a well as entertaining. Strellabelle and Hyzanthlay shared a few more raspy laughs over the sight of the morally pure Abbots and Champions falling so easily to their Fellish whiles. Sorena was working too hard to share in their diversion, but secretly it gave her some satisfaction as well.

The gothic spires loomed before them at a dizzying height that rose into the clouds out of their vision. The grasses outside the Cathedral doors were soaked with blood, the grass trampled. The group moved with a certain precision now, their individual interests now merged to a single purpose. Whitemane and Morgraine had not emerged from their stronghold in the Cathedral, but it was imperative that as many of their allies be dispatched with as well, lest they come to their aid.

Hyzanthlay was thinking about Abbendis, who would not likely be here. The book, whatever it was about, had belonged to the Crusade. But Torch Boy; to whom had he belonged? And what role had he played in her betrayal? Now she understood the nature of his horror. It had not been the sight of an undead that had driven him out of his mind on the road that night. It had been the terror of guilt that had lashed him to a kneeling position in the dirt. Morgraine and Whitemane, in her own bloodthristy mind, had been reduced to stepping stones in her quest to confront Abbendis herself. The Destruction warlock was already planning another visit to Torch Boy, and she didn't care if he was hiding in Stormwind itself.

She looked up at the spires of the Cathedral and thought of the Bulwark, and how the Forsaken had built a barrier on the edge of the Western Plaguelands that looked like a massive wooden porcupine. Beyond it lay the ruins of a former kingdom called Lordaeron, and no doubt the remains of the Scarlets would be hidden there. She knew little of Tyr's Hand, except that it existed in the far reaches of the Eastern Plaguelands. Now a new, fierce hunger gripped her; to cross the boundary of the Bulwark and pursue Abbendis and her minions to the very ends of the earth.

They reached the high, thin doors that led into the Cathedral. Their challengers were crushed before them, buried under their steady but inexorable advance. They hesitated for a moment, as if waiting for some signal. Even the succubi were silent, sensing the gravity of the situation.

"They are here," Hyzanthlay whispered, and all who heard her were startled by the sound of her voice. It was not a gutteral rasp but a soft whisper, more like a human woman. It was she who reached forward and pushed the heavy door open.

For a moment all was soft candlelight and the smell of insense. Sorena recalled an earlier time, when this Cathedral was all but her home, and those inside were her family. Her pleasant memories were shattered when a small group attacked them as they stepped inside. Kohanaa attacked carefully, circling them and pinning them against the doors. The party now stayed together in a closely knit circle, keeping an eye out for reinforcements or spellcasters that were trying to run; and of course the leaders themselves. They made sure that the dark corridors were completely clear before turning their attention towards the altar.

It was then that Morgraine appeared, and he strode towards them with much the same defiant purpose as Herod. He walked towards the Druid, who pawed at the ground in his challenge. The succubi hissed with glee, excited at the prospect of such a handsome and powerful victim. He did not notice the diminutive Priest; at least not yet. His vision was filled with horns and hooves. Sorena was crouched behind Hyzanthlay's relatively broad shoulders. The warlock would be careful to avoid his mace, even more careful to avoid his spells.

He raised his mace to strike the Druid, but his blow never fell. Sorena slipped past Hyzanthlay, drew back her hood, and faced Morgraine. The rest of the party froze with a mixture of horror and surprise.

"Renault," she said, calling him by his first name and spoke to him in broken Common. "You…remember, Renault?"

The last Scarlet Champion stopped, his mace suspended in mid-air. Disbelief and disgust twisted his chiselled face.

"Serena," he whispered, his eyes widening, the light in them dulled by the abject horror that was creeping over his face like a Corruption spell. His upper limp trembled, his jaw became slack.

"Leave this place," Sorena whispered. "The Silver Hand has fallen, it will not return."

She stepped forward, and the unearthly amber glow of her shining orbs was lighting up his dark face.

"Go. Now. Or we'll kill you."

In that moment of profound and heavy silence, enveloped in the quiet and oblivious darkness of that once holy place, Hyzanthlay actually thought for a moment that he would do as the Priest asked. But Strellabelle would not have it. She had come to the Monastery to kill or be killed. The Dreadlord had given her a command, and glory and spoils were worth more than any petty human sentiments. Hyzanthlay would be bound to Sorena for many years hence, but today she sided with her fellow warlock. She would sear and smash his pretty fleshy face, then drink his blood and eat his big fat heart.


	145. Chapter 145

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Morgraine uttered a strange, guttural howl, and then swung his mace in Sorena's direction.

"Infidels!" He howled, "They must be purified!"

She was ready, and dodged him, but she could not dodge the spell. His Hammer of Justice hit her squarely, and a whimper of pain escaped her lips as she crouched on the floor, stunned.

The sight of their healer wounded broke the tension that held the party back, and sent them into a screaming frenzy. Hyzanthlay could not cast Immolate fast enough. Her anger, which was at a precarious level normally, was suddenly driven to a fever pitch. Strellabelle stood by, smiling broadly, casting with careful precision. Whether or not Sorena had intended it, her confrontation had badly unnerved the last Scarlet Champion, so much that it had taken the edge off considerably. He would not be difficult to destroy now.

Sorena had risen, and was healing as well as ever, but her face was twisted in a strange way. Hyzanthlay caught a glimpse of it, and even though she herself was incapable of tears she wondered if other Forsaken were the same.

They were so focused on Morgraine that they did not see Whitemane at first. She arose from behind the altar, and slowly walked towards the group. Her calm movements were not forced, but they seemed unnatural, especially considering that once Morgraine was dead she was all that was left of the Scarlet Monastery.

She walked with her head held high, without any attempt to conceal herself, as if she was leading the mass. It was only when Morgraine fell senseless to his knees that she spoke, and the party noticed her.

"Serena," she greeted her warmly, as if it was just another day of prayer and study at the Monastary. "You have returned to us."

"No...no, Sally, Serena...she will never return."

Whitemane took a step back, as if Sorena had pushed her. A dark shadow passed over her blank, wide eyes.

"Morgraine will not fall," she said it in a quiet voice, but the words still echoed throughout the Cathedral. She opened her arms as if to embrace a willing congregation and cried, "Arise, my champion!"

Each member of the party lunged towards her in a desperate effort to stop the Resurrection spell. But before any of them took a second step, the Sleep spell had taken effect. They stood in place, heads and shoulders sagging, as Whitemane healed her champion.

Hyzanthlay had a strange dream. There was a bookshelf in front of her, unmarred and untouched except for one empty space. She peered carefully through it. She could see nothing on the other side, but she could see a thick mist What was that awful smell? A hideous face suddenly appeared, with rotting skin and glowing yellow orbs where it's eyes should have been...

She was startled awake as if from a nightmare. Her ears were filled with a cacophony of sound. There was the roaring of a bear and the screech of a succubus. The warlock turned just in time to see one of the succubi fade back to Fel. It had been her own; it seems that Strellabelle, who was a better caretaker of demons anyway, had come out of her stupor soon enough to save hers. Upon resurrecting, Morgraine had crushed the unholy creature rather quickly with his consecrated weapon. Hyzanthlay snarled angrily, and concentrated all of her power on Whitemane. Sorena's words echoed in her ears, the spellcasters must be targeted first.

She could easily do it now. If she moved to the right spot, and struck Strellabelle down in the chaos, they could be rid of her. Her, and the Clan, and Varimathras...maybe the Forsaken altogether.

Whitemane was dying. Her robes were torn and bloody, smouldering with Fel fire. Her face was rotted with corruption, the puddle of blood she was standing in was growing wider by the moment. Morgraine was also weakening. They were still fighting fiercely. Hyzanthlay waited for the right moment. The moment when Strellabelle would be stricken and Sorena would be occupied with the Warrior and the Druid. And then she would strike.

Another ghostly voice crept into her thoughts.

_Hyzanthlay_, she whispered, _all the world will be your enemy. And when they catch you, they will destroy you. _

"Leave me," the warlock hissed. She was trying to manoeuvre and aim. Morgraine turned and raised his hammer. For a moment it seemed he would aim for Strellabelle, but he was blocked by Tiponi.

_But first they must catch you_, the voice continued, in an oblivious tone.

Hyzanthlay cocked her head, as if trying to shake the voice out of her ears. This voice was eerily familiar and strangely close.

_Her time will come_, it said. _Hyzanthlay...Sorena will know._

Whitemane gagged and her staff wavered. In her dying moments, she cast a Smite spell in Strellabelle's direction, and it hit the Affliction warlock square and true. But Hyzanthlay did not strike. She was distracted.

_Know...know what?_ She asked. Whitemane shuddered and moaned, collapsing to the floor in a crumpled, bloody heap. Morgraine was near death, cornered by both Kohanaa and Tiponi.

_Sorena will know where the Dreadsteed goes_, the voice said softly. And then it was gone.

The Cathedral was silent. The party stood in a circle around the two corpses, shining with steel and blood.

"The Light has spoken," Sorena declared quietly.


	146. Chapter 146

Tiponi's blood sang with the rush of fighting. Her body pulsed in rhythm, her blood, her breath, her killing stroke. As the scarlets fell around her, as she brought death, tears, pain and blood to the living, Tiponi chanted an internal mantra.

"I have the flower. Everything will be alright. I will right the wrongs. I have the flower. Everything will..."

Her body moved automatically. Her trained warrior instincts snapping with precision. She ducked a blow, parried, countered, dodged. She deflected a bolt of the human's magic with the blade of her weapon, all the while muttering under her breath.

"I will right the wrongs. I have the flower. Everything will be alright."

It had become so much more to her now that a simple token to the dead woman. This single act represented her redemption. She had fallen so far. In the pursuit of frivolous excitement and adventure she had become the very thing she despised. She had wanted to help others, not cut them down like stalks of barley, and certainly not enjoying it. She had committed so many wrongs. Would her people even recognise her now? The single act of returning a flower to an unmarked grave might seem insignificant, but to Tiponi it represented her last chance to redeem herself. Her last chance to save herself.

She ignored the blood. She ignored the screams. She ignored the rasping breaths of the dying. She was suddenly surprised when it was over.

"The Light has spoken," said the healer.

Tiponi regarded the two dead bodies on the floor. It had all been for this? They looked no different from any other human she had fought since this massacre began. "Good." Said Tiponi, "We are finished then."


	147. Chapter 147

"The secret lever is just, yes, to the left." Hamilton instructed his new companion and grinned broadly as the secret wall swung open. "I used to come here with Evangelina... she has the nicest buttocks you have ever- hey, where are you going?"

The Tauren had pushed down the passageway without even a look to make sure he was following. "Heathens." Hamilton muttered under his breath.

He had adapted to his new-found predicament rather well. When he awoke from the she-cow's attack with not so much as a headache he praised the Light at first. Until he swiftly realised that it wasn't the Light that had saved him. Oh what a fool he had been! All those years wasted when he really should have been on the other side. It soon dawned upon him that his former allies would kill him on sight, so he had been hiding, contemplating his escape when who should he meet but this bearish hulk of a tauren. The beast-man insisted on finding his talented and yet rather troublesome sister, and so now rather than escaping, Hamilton found himself leading the way towards the Cathedral.

"All in a day's work I suppose really." He muttered under his breath.

"What was that Deader?" the tauren rumbled. Foul beast really, no manners.

"I said we are almost there," then in a more hushed tone Hamilton continued, "you big dope."

This secret passageway, as well as being a well-secluded place for him to entertain the ladies, served to connect the Cathedral with the outer quarters. Hamilton, through his long-standing experiences in these tunnels, knew the way by heart. _That's a thought to consider, do I even have one anymore? I wonder what it would take to find out..._

He felt different, and strange. His vision was sharper, but he had lost all sense of colour, and he still had his sense of hearing and smell, but his feelings on his skin were dulled. He drove the point of his own sword into his finger and only felt a slight discomfort. It had oozed a peculiar green slime. He did not feel hunger, or pain, and yet his memories of lust aroused his curiosity. _I wonder if all the parts still work?_

"Now what?" the hulking tauren insisted on interrupting.

Hamilton pressed forward, squeezing around the bull's sweaty, stinking bulk, and pressed hard on a particular stone. The wall swung open again and Hamilton's jaw might have dropped if he hadn't nailed it in. The Cathedral was littered with the bodies of his former peers. The Scarlet Commander and the High Inquisitor lay broken on their red carpet. Hamilton began to laugh uncontrollably. She was a bit of a frigid ! #$% anyway.

"They're not here." The tauren stated the obvious.

Hamilton pointed to a bloody hoof-print. "No, but they were." He began playing with Whitemane's face, attempting to form a kissing mouth. "Well these are still fresh, they're no doubt nearby. If you hurry you might catch her."

Kwahu turned to him then, "And what of you, don't you wish to make your escape?"

Hamilton grinned, "All who could have threatened me are dead, please give my regards to your sister for that. No I think I'll stay here for a while." He grinned as he regarded the prone body of Sally Whitemane. "I think I might have a bit of fun."


	148. Chapter 148

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

Then the looting began. Morgraine had a handsome two-handed mace and some very fine mail gloves. chapeau was clearly for clerics and healers, and was promptly given to Sorena.

The fires that had started in the library had moved on to the other wings. They were unchallenged as they left. No doubt any survivors would have retreated East; or perhaps Southwest, if they thought they could make it past Undercity to the human stronghold of Ambermill. They found many an abandoned tabard as they walked. The Scarlet Crusade had fallen out of favour in Azeroth, and any wearing their colours would have a difficult time finding succour.

The party was strangely quiet; now a staggered group of individuals again. Strellabelle was elated, and clearly could not get to Undercity fast enough. Doubtless word had already reached the Dreadlord and the Dark Queen. The pillar of black smoke was barely visible in the distance, but a clear signal for all to see, even for the human residents of Southshore. Hyzanthlay hung back, trying to find an excuse to take the zeppelin south with Sorena. But the fact is she had to go to Undercity as well. The pure hearts were weighing her down. She also had to admit some degree of curiosity as to what Varimathras would reward them with. As single-minded and incapable of planning as she was, she was still a Forsaken warlock, and hardly immune to the temptations of greed and power.

Tiponi and Kohanna had no wish to visit Undercity. Tiponi in particular, who seemed downcast and tired, was anxious to return to Mulgore. Her mood seemed to similar to that of Sorena's, but less muted. The priest had not announced that she was planning on taking the zeppelin to Grom Gol, but they assumed that she was heading to Booty Bay. DVS was not exactly a famous guild, but it was well-known that it's headquarters were based in the goblin city. Naturally the priest was going there. Strellabelle did make one wheedling effort to try and change her mind.

"Come to the Dreadlord with us, Sorena," Strellabelle smiled as sweetly as an undead warlock possibly could. "Are you also not a Forsaken? Part of this glory is yours!"

"I respectfully decline," Sorena said quietly. "My guild awaits my report. Many thanks, my friends. We have done Azeroth a favour, and regardless of what the humans say openly, nobody will be more grateful then them."

Sorena caught Hyzanthlay's eyes for a brief moment as she turned her mount towards the zepplin landing just outside of Brill. They both remembered the book of the Dancing Trolls; no doubt Sorena was on her way back to that quiet little farmhouse. The two Tauren quietly followed after the usual formal farewells. Hyzanthlay turned to follow Strellabelle into Undercity.

Word had already spread throughout the Forsaken capital that the Scarlet Monastary had been raided, looted and was burning to the ground even as they went about their unnatural daily lives. Many of their brethren bowed low before them, some were even audacious enough to shake their hands and congratulate them openly. Hyzanthlay was glad to remain behind Strellabelle and let her lap up the attention. The Affliction warlock mistakenly took this as deferment, and was content that Hyzanthlay had finally learned her place. The truth was that the Destruction warlock was fellow hollow and dull. The raid of the Monastary had been satisfying on a number of levels, but her hunger was not satisfied. She craved even more now, and not just blood and guts, but it was the sweet milk of revenge that would satiate her thirst. How hard had she worked to hone her skills and train her vicious nature to raid the monastary, only to have an even greater mystery and more powerful enemies appear before her.

The residents of the Royal Quarter knew as well. Varimathras and Sylvanas rose when they entered the chamber, the guards saluted them as they marched past, and the entourage that had gathered behind them hung by the door.

"You are welcome, most honoured among the Forsaken," the Queen smiled broadly. "You have accomplished what many before you could not. This is a great victory for the Forsaken, as well as the Horde. You will be duly rewarded for your most valiant and awesome efforts."

She motioned towards the Dreadlord, who was also smiling. His long teeth bit into the top of his dark blue upper lip. He looked quite pleased, but not exactly thrilled or amazed. Hyzanthlay wondered what it would take for a Dreadlord to bend his knee.

"For you, Strellabelle," and the warlock bowed low as he spoke to her. "May the Prophetic Cane guild you to many more victories. And for you, Hyzanthlay, I understand you...are not partial to staves. In that case, may the Sword of Omen cut you a path to victory. For the Forsaken!"

These last few words boomed through the chamber and sent all that were there into a wave of cheering. Even Sylvanas gave them a round of polite applause. Strellabelle was greeted and congratulated by members of the Clan of the Fallen. Many also wanted to have a word with Hyzanthlay, but in the chaos of cries and cheers she had quietly slipped away.

"Ah," Apothecary Farnell was bent over his vials and potions as usual. "My dear lady! I heard that you had returned."

Hyzanthlay nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing. She lifted her heavy bag and dumped the pile of soggy hearts on his workbench.

"My what an abundance of gore you have brought me, Hyzanthlay!" He rubbed his hands together with glee. "Your efforts have been most excellent! And a commendation from Varimathras and the Dark Lady herself as well, no doubt!"

"My efforts have proven to be very fruitful," she said, and drew her new sword to show off a bit.

"Most excellent indeed!" He then lowered his voice and said, "You should tell Faustin about this...as I'm sure you'll be heading south again soon."

Hyzanthlay smiled and carefully sheathed her sword. She took her leave of the Apothecary, and after a brief visit to the bank and the tailor (who recognized her and gushed incessantly about how honoured she was), she had changed into her fishing gear and was riding out to the zeppelin landing.


	149. Chapter 149

_(From the quill of Hyzanthlay)_

"Well, if it isn't our esteemed priest!"

Sorena entered the Salty Sailor tavern in Booty bay to barely a look from the other patrons. Perhaps it was too soon for word to have reached the isolated pirate cove. Eucalypto might have been an undead rogue, but no one could ever say that he was not a gentleman, and that he did not look after his guild mates. He immediately rose and greeted her, then pulled out her chair and ordered her a drink. She said little, and was clearly quite downcast.

"The monastery has fallen," she confirmed. "No word here yet?"

"The goblins already know, but many are keeping it quiet." Eucalypto smiled. "Don't want to frighten off any investors, I suppose. This may hurt certain prominent human families. And why the long face, my dear? I would expect being in your old haunt would have brought back some fond memories."

"That was part of the problem," she sighed, and gratefully took the full flagon of mead from the goblin waitress. Eucalypto handed her a handful of coins, and her eyes widened.

"Keep them coming, and another round for myself. We'll also need a third glass." He said.

"Yes sir!" She answered enthusiastically, not taking her greedy eyes off the shimmering pile in her hand.

"I know what will cheer you up," he said. "A friend of yours is here, arrived just a few moments ago. Came straight in from Undercity."

Sorena assumed that the third glass would be for Rik, so she was both surprised and happy when Hyzanthlay, grinning from ear to ear, came down the stairs and sat next to her.

"You were held up in Duskwood," the warlock smiled. "I caught up to you. Went straight from Grom Gol to here. Did...um...did the boy like the book you got him?"

Eucalytpo raised his eyebrows a bit (what was left of them) but said nothing. Sorena's head seemed to sink even lower.

"I couldn't give it to him, or even leave it for him," she said quietly. "The house is standing empty, completely locked up."

A dark silence settled over the table. Sorena continued.

"Perhaps...they were tracking me. The undead activity there seems to have increased. My...father-in-law, he has a tavern up at the logging camp. I will try to find him there. It's just as well...not safe for a chlid."

Sorena drank deeply and Hyzanthlay joined her with the full mug that the goblin had just placed on the table.

"You'll find him," Hyzanthlay shrugged, wondering why she even cared. "Eucalypto, you should have been with us! The spoils, the hunt, the great feast that it was!"

"So many humans, so little time," the rogue snickered. "And what did you find, Hyzanthlay?"

"Not what I expected," the warlock said, her mood souring, but not to the same degree as Sorena. "But that Strellabelle...she's after the Dreadsteed!"

"And so are you," the rogue said, smiling.

"Indeed I am," the warlock confirmed proudly. "And I found out that you would know," and she turned and poked the Priest, "where the Dreadsteed goes."

"I know nothing of your Dreadsteed," Sorena took another swig.

A voice from outside cut into their conversation.

"Extra, extra, read all about it! Special edition! Scarlet Monastery in Tirisfal burns, leaders thought dead, Horde takes credit! Read all about it!"

An excited wave of chatter swept through the tavern. Many glasses were raised and many toasts were declared, Here's to the fall of the Scarlet Monastery! For the Horde! Huzzah!

Sorena could not help but smile. Hyzanthlay lit a fat cigar.

"We`ll talk about it later," Hyzanthlay drained her glass and leaned back behind a plume of heavy smoke.


	150. Chapter 150

Tiponi shivered in the rain and the fading light. She was alone in the graveyard. She stood still, watching the rivulets of water play patterns in the ridges of the gravestones. The one she sought had no such patterns, no markings at all. No name for a woman with no hope of a second chance. Tiponi knelt in the mud, heedless of the dirt sticking to her fur. She needed to say something, to tell this woman how much this meant to her.

"I barely knew you," she started, blinking up in the drizzle, "You could not even remember yourself." She sniffed, perhaps she would catch a cold in this chill. "Were you a kind person? Were you a killer? Were you a mother, a daughter, a wife? Perhaps there are some who mourned you, perhaps some people would miss you when you were gone." Tiponi struggled with a sudden knot in her throat and she swallowed. "I have always believed in a second chance, but you were denied the opportunity. I hope that wherever you are now, that you are happy. Are you in the place of your own beliefs? Are you safe in the Earthmother's arms? Does she forgive all? I hope that she forgives me, and yet I fear that also. If I should die and find myself faced with the spirits of my mother's killers, I should think that my afterlife would become my eternal torment." The tears dripping down her cheek were swiftly lost in the rain. "Perhaps it's no more than I deserve."

She reached into her pouch and pulled out a small piece of folded linen cloth. Gently unwrapping the folds she revealed a small blue rose to the falling rain. "This," Tiponi continued, "represents our second chance. Look!" she showed the flower to the markless headstone, "-a flower! I found a flower in Tirisfal." Tiponi laughed uncontrollably for a moment. "See? Do you see now? There is a chance for redemption. If a flower can grow in a place as rotten and fel-damned as this, then surely there is hope yet? Surely there is hope, for me..."

With that Tiponi gently placed the blue rose on top of the earth mound of the grave. The moment the bloom touched the tainted soil it flashed and began to wither into a dead crisp. Tiponi blinked. She stared at it for a second not believing her eyes. "No." She lunged forward, grabbing at the emaciated stem and the dried petals turned to ash in her hands. "NOOOO!" she roared and lashed out. She kicked at the unmarked headstone, she punched at another. She howled in pain and outrage and she worked lose an old stone from the ground and pushed it over. She kicked with all her might and the headstone shattered beneath her hoof.

"NOOOOOOOO!" She howled in despair, "It can't be!"

"Hey Bessie, what do you think you're do-"

The Forsaken make a splurting sound as her axe cut deep into his chest. His orb eyes flashed in surprise, then dulled and faded from existence. Tiponi froze. She stood there for a moment, praying for her mind to catch up with her rapidly beating heart. She had just killed someone for no reason. Her eyes widened when she recognised the body before her. It was the guard from the Undercity, the one who had verbally tormented her. She breathed rapidly, looking around. She was still alone. She bit her lip and then dragged the corpse aside. She swiftly covered him with dirt and then affixed the head stone back in place on top of him. She was shaking now. "Oh no, Earthmother no... I murdered a guard. Oh no."

She needed to clean off the evidence. She needed to get away. She began running to the lake as the wicked laugher from her nightmares roared inside her skull.


	151. Chapter 151

Kwahu was more than happy to leave the filthy forsaken behind, but he ground his teeth nonetheless. He had been so close! He had only been a step behind his sister and yet still she thwarted him. She had to be close, but where? Where? He cut south west from the now smoking Monastery to the edge of the mountain peaks that overlooked Tirisfal. His people's eyes were known to be sharp from a lifetime of hunting, so it was with great hope that he stood on the rocky hilltop, scanning the rotten lands below. He saw the fields dotted with pumpkins and the speck of a farmer tending them, he saw the twisted remains of trees forming wiry thickets. He saw the lake below him, its waters black and still. He saw a tiny figure kneeling at the water's edge. His eyes widened, could it be?

"TIPONI!" He screamed and leapt off the mountain crag. The slope was steep and his hooves slipped on the rubble as he tumbled down. His shoulder collided with a boulder and he grunted as he felt it bruise and nearly break. He called to the great spirit of the lion and flowed into its form. His padded paws softened his impact and deftly found purchase on the rocky incline. He bounded the rest of the way, graceful and sleek, from rock to rock he was a flash of red fur. He rolled out from the base of the hill and searched the other side of the lake. She had been there a second ago. He spotted her form, a female Shu'halo without a doubt, as she began to turn away from the water.

"Tiponi!" he yowled, his cat throat garbling the sound. _Not now, not when I'm so close._ He leapt into the filthy waters of the black lake, calling to the sea lion spirit to aid him now. It was not a form he used often, but the playful spirit was overjoyed to be of help and within an instant Kwahu was darting through the waters faster than he could run on land. He leapt out off the water's surface, calling his sister's name. "Tiponi, wait!" He saw her hesitate and turn her head slightly. _YES!_ He jumped out of the brackish water, his shape melting into his own once more and his hooves pounded the dirt as he raced to her.

She turned slowly. It _was_ her, and her eyes widened. "Kwahu?" she asked in the common tongue before slipping into her native taurahe, "Kwahu, is that you?"

"Yes, my dear sister. It's me." He embraced her in a hug as tightly as he could. She used to protest at the strength of his hugs when they were younger, but now she hugged him back just as forcefully.

"I'm can't believe you're here! I'm so happy to see you." she spoke into the fur of his neck, pulling back he could see her eyes beginning to water.

"I missed you too." He regarded her. She looked different. "Wow. You're huge!" he said. She had grown not only in height since he last saw her but had put on considerable muscle mass. She was wearing a garish suit of armour and had the feathers of Menarche in her mane. There was something else... something in her face and her eyes. She looked harder.

She grinned and pushed him away. "What are you doing here?" she laughed.

"You don't need to worry anymore Tiponi, I've come to bring you home."

She stepped back at that, her laugher instantly cutting short and her eyes narrowing. "You've come... to_bring_ me back?" she said slowly, shaking her head. "What, like a great hero you can come waltzing back, having rescued your foolish sister?"

"Well, no, not quite." Kwahu was caught off guard. He ran his fingers through his mane trying to think of what to say.

"You always do this Kwahu!" she continued, "You get all the praise and what do I get, a stern talking to from the Elders. What makes you think I _want_ to come with you?" she punctuated the word with a finger jabbed at his chest. "I've been just fine on my own, thankyou."

"You... you're just a kid..." he replied, shrugging helplessly. "You can't stay here on your own." She looked to begin pouting now as he reached up to her face, grabbing a handful of feather and beads. "What's this anyway? You're too young for the rite ceremony. Did one of your Deaders throw you a pretend party?" It was the wrong thing to say. The grin slid off his face as she snarled and pulled away from him. The feathers caught in his fingers, tearing out from her mane along with strips of fur.

She shrieked, "How DARE you? You've been like this ever since you were chosen, you _special one_. You think that makes you better than me? You think you have any right to tell me what to do!? You'd just come here, rescue me back home, and father would lavish praise upon his only dependable child? Did f***ing with those Night Elves screw up your brain?"

Kwahu grabbed at her wrist. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, looking deep into her hate-filled eyes. "Did the forsaken do this to you?"

She twisted free from his grasp with more force than he knew she possessed. She moved like a flash of lightning over the plains and swiftly he felt a blade at his throat. He swallowed nervously but said nothing, simply looking at her. Her eyes seemed to widen a little, then narrow into hardness.

"If you come after me again, I _will_ kill you."


	152. Chapter 152

**Part Three**

**Kwahu's Journey**

The tall, red-furred Shu'halo rested his heavy head on his arms as he gazed out from the deck of the Sea Spray. The ocean was calm, waves licked the sides of the hull and glittered like jewels in the sunlight. The bull sighed heavily.

"Will you cheer up already?" The voice was rough, deep and punctuated by annoying clicks every time the Forsaken opened his jaw. The undead lounged against the railing beside him, his unnatural golden orb eyes rolling in irritation. He wore heavy plate armour, though he had since stripped it of any Scarlet insignia. His face was fresh, for the walking dead. He almost looked like a new corpse, except for his jaw which consisted of bone stripped bare. And those fel-damned eyes.

"Why are you still here?" Kwahu retorted angrily. The Forsaken had found him again as he left the rotting former lands of Lordaeron. Good riddance to the undead, he had thought, but he had no such luck.

"Do you want the long answer?"

Kwahu glared at his unwanted companion, trying to convey his contempt with his eyes.

The Forsaken grinned, exposing teeth that didn't match his lower jaw. "Whim."

The tauren rolled his eyes. "Whim? You drive me insane out of whim?!"

The Forsaken broke out into crazed giggles.

Kwahu growled low and threateningly in his throat. "Damnit Pearce, I'm going to throw you overboard and laugh as you sink!"

"Hey, heheh, easy there big fella. We need to work on your sense of humour... Look, I've told you before. I made no friends while I was living. I'm Forsaken, anathema to my former Scarlet brothers, and while I served under their banner my life's duty was to destroy the Forsaken. After everything I did to them, I doubt they'd welcome me into the fold with open arms, even if I am one of them now. I have no one, nothing..." The Forsaken's voice dropped to a harsh whisper as he finished, and he lowered his head onto the railing.

Kwahu felt the stab of guilt. He sighed, "I... Pearce, I'm sorry."

"Ha!," The Forsaken laughed aloud, "I totally had you going there for a second. You are too easy Kwahu! That's why I'm here, you are too good an opportunity to pass up."

With that Kwahu launched a fist toward the laughing undead, only for him to dodge aside surprisingly quickly.

"Ease up, Fluffy, and would it kill you to cheer up a little? Soon you'll be home, doing whatever it is you cow-people do." He stretched his arms out behind his back in a pose of exaggerated relaxation.

"Yeah..." Kwahu mumbled, lowering his head back down again, "That will be just great..."


	153. Chapter 153

The sailors on the Sea Spray worked frantically. They shouted orders in their strange tongue and ran about like headless fowl as they guided the vessel towards the dock. Ropes were thrown out from the deck to be caught by the heavily muscled goblins on the wooden planking. They hauled the ship closer and secured her tightly before readying a plank for the passengers to disembark. Kwahu's meagre possessions were in a satchel over his shoulder. He walked unsteadily down the makeshift bridge and stood for a moment, regarding the town. Ratchet was a goblin port like any other. It was noisy, foul-smelling and teaming with unscrupulous peoples of all walks of life. The Barrens' sun greeted him like an old friend, but Kwahu did not feel its warmth today. He felt hollow inside. He had failed.

"Ok you sad-sack-of-fur, stop moping. Here we are!" The Forsaken stood with his arms outstretched and Kwahu had to push past to be on his way. The Deader growled and spun around to face him. "What is your freakin' problem? You've had a stick up your ! #$ for this entire trip, now you're finally home, and you're _still_ grouchy? Get a grip!" The little undead man leapt up to grab Kwahu's horns, pulling his head down closer to the ground. Those unnatural orb eyes seemed to burn right into his own. "You're lucky that I'm so patient. Really, or I would have given up on you long ago. Look, you big lug, see? You're home!" He pointed ahead into the distance. He was really pointing towards the human hold southward but the gesture was not missed.

"That's the problem Pearce. I'm home. I don't think that my father's heart could break any more, but now I have to tell him that his daughter is lost to us forever. I have to tell him that I failed. I also have to tell my mentor that I wasted my time. I cannot imagine a greater dishonour." Kwahu lowered his head and squinted his eyes shut. He opened them to find the Forsaken leading his head on one arm with a bored expression across his decaying features.

"So, don't go back?" He raised his eyebrow like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That would bring me even greater dishonour! You know nothing of honour, _cretin_!" Kwahu's last word was a hiss.

Pearce bowed with a flourish and gave him a mock salute, "Need I remind you that I was once a knight?"

"I don't believe you."

"My father was a knight."

"Wrong."

"I've read about them. Look! My point is that there is no point to you being such a big old boring sad-sack. Really?" The undead smiled in what he probably thought was a charming way but it was more alarming than anything else. "You'll get over it. There's nothing you could have done."

Kwahu nodded once, "Nothing."

"She turned you away. Didn't want your help."

"She wasn't herself..."

"She's perfectly capable of slaughtering her way through anything that threatens her." The Forsaken nodded emphatically.

"No, no, don't you see?" Kwahu raised a hand to his brow, working his fingers to ease the building tension. "That's not like her at all! Tiponi wouldn't harm a fly."

The Forsaken raised an eyebrow incredulously and planted his rotting hands on his armoured hips. "Need I remind you that she MURDERED me? Azeroth to Kwahu? Splat! Whack!" He emphasised his words with feigned thrusts of an imaginary weapon. "Krr-shlutz. Nearly took my head clean off." He pointed to his jaw.

"No, no, no!" Kwahu's voice was getting loud but he ignore the sidelong glances he drew from the dockworkers. "Can't you see this is wrong? She really wasn't herself. She was... she was being manipulated."

"Ahuh." The undead muttered noncommittally.

"By those Forsaken. Those scourged fiends corrupted my sister!" Kwahu was getting worked up now, the familiar light had rekindled in his eyes.

"Scourge fiends huh?" Pearce mumbled as he nudged the dirt with his armoured boot.

"You're right. You're absolutely right Pearce! I can't go back yet. I must save my sister!" Kwahu started off marching down the dusty road.

The undead groaned, "What'd I say?" and took off after the striding Tauren. "How are you even going to find her again?"

Kwahu narrowed his eyes, his mind focused once again on his objective. "My master will know a way."


	154. Chapter 154

The Tauren tribes had travelled across their sacred lands for hundreds of years. They followed the migratory kodos from the green fields of Mulgore, through the dusty Barren lands and the lush jungles of the Feralas wilds. They took what they needed from the land, and they gave their thanks to the spirits. When they packed up their tents they left behind only hoofprints to mark their passing. This was the way of things. The Shu'ahalo way, for as long as the Tauren could remember. But it all changed with the coming of the Horde.

The Chieftain, Caine Bloodhoof, made a pact with an orc, binding all the Tauren people into a new nation. For the first time, the Tauren built a permanent place to live; the city of Thunderbluff, nestled atop the mesas high into the clouds. The only way into the city was by a wooden platform worked by ropes, and the defenders could see as far as the distant mountains in all directions. Their nomadic way of life was at an end. Some Tauren resisted the change, but many more began to live like their new allies, leaving the old ways behind them.

Change was inevitable. It was how they dealt with change that would mark them as a people.

Kwahu felt his heart swell with pride as he stepped onto the wooden platform. The timber creaked beneath his heavy hooves, but supported his weight as the pulleys lifted him high into the sky. Thunderbluff was a marvel. Truly an incredible feat of workmanship, especially for a people who had never built a city before. Kwahu was still young, and had happily accepted his people's new way of life. The Night Elves had shared their druidic magic with the Shu'halo. When the elders discovered that Kwahu had the gift, he had left his family's village to study high atop the bluffs. This city was his home now. He relished the sounds of the people working, training, trading. He was proud of his people. He noted that even the forsaken's jaw dropped at the sight of the city in the clouds.

"Are you sure this thing's safe?" Pearce asked as he peered over the edge.

"Sure it is," smiled Kwahu, "Just as long as you don't fall off." He grinned to himself as he noticed the forsaken step gingerly back from the edge.

The lift reached the top with a jolt and Kwahu confidently stepped onto the wooden walkway. The city bustled with life. The air rang with the clang of steel and the hiss of hot metal quenched in water. Fruit vendors called out their wares and Tauren sat in conversation around the small pond in the centre of the rise. Although Tauren populated the city, all manner of races walked among the rises. Muscle-bound orcs brushed shoulders with lean trolls, there were even a few goblins and elves. Kwahu wrinkled his snout at them. What was Thrall thinking? Letting pinkskins into the Horde…

"High Elves?" Pearce asked incredulously.

Kwahu snorted. "You were inside that Monastery for too long. No, not High Elves, check their eyes. See the fel taint? The Blood Elves, as they call themselves now, are our newest _allies_." He spoke the last word with contempt.

The forsaken shrugged, "Bit skinny for my taste… Where are the…uh… my kind?" He asked looking around.

"They keep to themselves in the Pools of Vision. I will not set foot in that place, the stench is…" Kwahu stopped, "Nevermind. We go this way, to my master."

Kwahu led the forsaken to a large central chamber where winding stairs connected the tiers of the central mesa. Past the central bonfire where Cheiftain Cairne addressed the tribe, Kwahu walked self-assuredly out onto the wooden plank bridge connected to the Elder Rise. The druids resided in a large tent, decorated with scrolls. Here, the most ancient of ancient tales were remembered. An elder Tauren with grey fur moved to greet him with open arms.

"Kwahu my dear student, you have returned."

Kwahu embraced his mentor, clapping on the back. "It is good to see you Master Turak."

Turak's gaze passed beyond him and he raised his eyebrows. "I see you have brought back a friend." He gestured to the forsaken clinging tightly to the rope bridge.

"Oh him, yes, he won't leave me alone." Kwahu mumbled in embarrassment. He shouldn't have brought the deader here! His master seemed to be smirking. "This is Pearce. Pearce, this is my master, be respectful please."

Pearce scoffed at Kwahu, "When am I not?" He straightened to his full height and bowed low at the waist in Turak's direction. "A honour to make your acquaintance sir."

Kwahu forced his hands to unclench. The forsaken's grin worried him.

"And what of your sister. Any news of Tiponi?" The elder asked, his warm eyes showing their concern.

Kwahu cleared his throat. "Well... I found her, but I had difficulty convincing her to return."

The elder laughed, "I thought you might. Young, wild spirits like hers can take to adventure. "

"No, no, you don't understand." Kwahu waved his hands in front of his face. "She's not herself, she's been corrupted somehow. She's... she's being controlled."

Turak's eyes widened, "Are you certain of this?"

"Absolutely, she's not herself. I need to break her free and bring her home." Kwahu clenched his fists tightly.

"Well then my young one, I will do whatever I can to help you and your sister."


	155. Chapter 155

Hamilton followed Kwahu as the Tauren plodded along behind his elder into a smaller tent. He tried to stifle a yawn. The Tauren city had been impressive at first, built into the sky as it was, but its people were just as boring and serious as Kwahu. The bull now spoke to his master in hushed whispers. Hamilton caught the occasional word, something about spirits and ancestors. Not really anything he found interesting. He was considering wandering off to find what served as a Tauren bar when the old Tauren pulled out a pitcher full of water and a deep clay bowl.

They lit sticks of incense and candles, and thick plumes of smoke began to circle in the tent. Hamilton wrinkled his nose and laughed when he recognised the smell. "Ha! Swiftthistle! You know this stuff makes you hallucinate, right? Uh... guys?"

It was no use, the Tauren seemed to be in some sort of trance, mumbling in their language over the bowl. The elder Tauren poured water into the clay bowl and directed Kwahu to stare into it.

"What is it? What do you see?" Hamilton asked but was ignored. He tried to push past the two bulls to get a look but there was just no room in the tiny tent. He sighed and grumbled to himself as he sat in the corner. Kwahu gasped suddenly.

"What? What is it!?" Hamilton asked.

"A troll. I see a troll. Wait…" Kwahu began to growl. A low rumble sounded from deep in his throat and began to resonate. Hamilton grew a little worried, there was not enough room for a bear in this tent.

"Bah! Lying! Filthy! Dirty!" His roar turned unintelligible as Kwahu's hands began to shake. He clenched his hands tightly into fists to control their shaking. "I know this troll…" He muttered. "When I was looking for Tiponi, she said she hadn't met her. Said she hadn't heard of her! Filthy lying troll w**** B****!"

"Easy now Kwahu," his master spoke with a calm, clear voice. "You are surrounded by friends here, now is not the time to become the bear. You must master your rage my student."

Kwahu shuddered and took a deep breath, then sighed deeply. "I am sorry Master, I am dishonoured before you."

The old bull merely tisked. "Not at all. But tell me Kwahu, have the spirits answered your plea?"

Kwahu nodded and Hamilton grinned at the sight of the renewed fire in his eyes. "Yes. I must find the troll. Du'una."


	156. Chapter 156

"We're leaving already?" Pearce asked as he darted between tauren cityfolk to keep pace with Kwahu. "But we just got here."

"By all means, stay. PLEASE." Kwahu had collected a few meagre belongings to add to his satchel and was now heading straight for the windrider tower.

"Didn't you just want to stay for a little while? See your friends?" Pearce hurried along. If the Forsaken had breath he would probably have been panting.

"No time." Kwahu replied, "Father would rather this. I will bring Tiponi home to him." The Tauren took large strides, covering several steps at a time. He stopped suddenly and Pearce ran straight into the back of him. Such was his size and bulk that a running Forsaken in full plate armour did not even upset his hooves. He turned around and mumbled, "Pearce. Thank you for seeing me this far. I did not want a companion, especially not a deader…" Pearce snorted, "but your help was…appreciated." Kwahu struggled to find the words.

"Is this goodbye?" The forsaken asked. Kwahu could not tell any emotion from his glowing golden eyes. Was he upset? Did he even feel anything?

"I don't expect you to follow me to the other side of the world, again."

"Ha! Did you think it would be that easy to get rid of me? Where are we going next?" Pearce smiled. It was a horrible thing to see. He only possessed his upper lip which curled up exposing the teeth of a lower jaw that did not match. Pearce's smile looked more like a snarl.


	157. Chapter 157

A yellowed page hangs out of Tiponi's diary. It appears to have been written on a scrap of parchment, and folded inside haphazardly. Small, familiar writing is scrawled across its surface. The large heading reads: "Ohanko, The Hunter"

_This story was told to me by my Grandmother, and if it pleases the Elders, I will tell it to you._

This is the story of the Hunter, Ohanko.

Many, many years ago, back when the world was young, there was a brave hunter named Ohanko.

Ohanko was the strongest warrior of the tribe. He had the sharpest eyes and the swiftest hooves, and he could shoot the tail off a kodo, or so the story goes.

Ohanko was proud of his accomplishments and he would brag of his latest achievement to his kinsmen often.

He bragged that his eyes were sharper than the eagles, that he was stronger than the bear and faster than the plainstrider.

His wise Elders did caution him to be humble before the spirits, but Ohanko did not heed them.

Well, the day came when it was time for Ohanko to choose a mate. The young Shu'halo females of the tribe were all quite taken with our heroic bull, so he could have his pick of any of them, but Ohanko turned them all away.

"I am the strongest, the bravest, the most legendary hero of our tribe." He told the Elders, his mate should be nearly so special as he.

And so he set his eyes upon Wyanet. She was the most beautiful young female in the land, and also the only daughter of the Crone Chu'mana. Now for you non-Taur'ahe speakers that name means "Snake woman" roughly.

Where was I? Ah yes, Ohanko desired the beautiful Wyanet as his mate.

But Ohanko did not offer the proper respects to Wyanet or her tribe, and the old Crone Chu'mana was deeply offended.

She spoke to her daughter and together they concocted a wicked plan to teach Ohanko a lesson.

When Ohanko came to take Wyanet away as his wife, the young bride refused.

"If you are so strong, if you are so brave and mighty, then prove it, hero." She taunted.

"Fetch for me a necklace of the finest glimmering stars. Nine shimmering Tears of Mu'sha to hang around my neck and then you shall be my husband."

Ohanko was not deterred, such a paltry task would be easy for a hero like himself.

But then his young bride explained, "The nine stars are beyond even your reach, Ohanko, for they rest high above us in the night sky." She raised her delicate finger and pointed to a small cluster of shining lights in the sky above them.

Still Ohanko was not set back. "I will pluck these jewels from the Earthmother's arms for you." He swore, and left swiftly.

But try as he might, night after night, Ohanko could not reach the night sky. It slowly dawned on him that this might be one task that he could never complete.

But Ohanko could not take it. He wouldn't rest knowing that he had failed. He implored the mighty spirits for aid, and though he had bragged before about being greater than they, still our great spirits came to answer his prayer.

_"Mighty Bear spirit!" Ohanko cried, "I see not that I am not strong enough. Will you aid me in my quest to pluck a necklace from the sky?"_

And the mighty Bear appeared before him. Strong and large as the mighty oak tree, the Bear lifted Ohanko in its great paws and threw him high into the sky.

Ohanko almost touched the sky, but he fell back to the world and formed a great lake from the impact of his landing.

"Alas," said the Bear spirit, "I am not strong enough to help you."

But Ohanko did not give up, he cried out again. "Great Eagle spirit, I implore you. I see that I'm not fast enough. Will you aid me in my quest to pluck a necklace from the sky?"

Great Eagle appeared before him, majestic in his splendour. Eagle clasped Ohanko in its claws and flew high into the sky.

Ohanko flew higher and higher than ever before, but still he could not reach out and touch the necklace. Eagle began to tire, and he lost his hold. Once again Ohanko fell to the ground.

Broken and battered, Ohanko refused to be beaten, and once again cried out to the spirits for their aid.

This time a Coyote appeared before him. Now as you should know the Coyote is a trickster and not to be trusted, but Ohanko was proud and foolish and he asked the Coyote for his aid.

"Cunning Coyote, I am not wise enough. Will you aid me in my quest to pluck a necklace from the sky?"

And laughing, the Coyote agreed. Coyote called upon his friends the serpents to build a ladder for Ohanko. The serpents wove about themselves, biting each other's tails until they stretched high into the night sky.

Ohanko was overjoyed, finally he would achieve his goal. He raced up the ladder without a word, with the Coyote laughing behind him.

Ohanko climbed and climbed, until his muscles were sore and he ran out of breath. Still he climbed on until he was up among the stars.

He saw the Nine Tears of Mu'sha before him and reached out for them. But at that moment the wicked Crone's plans were revealed, for the serpents let go of each other's tails and tumbled back to the ground.

But Ohanko did not fall this time, for the wicked Coyote and Crone had trapped him there among the stars.

And still, to this day you can see Ohanko in the night sky. He forms the shape of the warrior, and as the stars move across the heavens, Ohanko is still chasing his necklace, but he will never reach it.

That is the story of the Hunter, Ohanko.


	158. Chapter 158

The room was dark. Dank smelly water dropped onto her head. Her legs cramped from being bent for too long and she craved the smell of fresh air.

Du'una sat on the floor of a stone cell. The only light came from a tiny slit at ceiling level, so high up that she could not see where she was being held. It was underground, she could tell that much. Occasionally footsteps would pass by her tiny window. The bars of her cage were rusted and old. The salt water tended to eat metal quickly in Booty Bay. Normally a bamboo cage would be sufficient for prisoners, but the goblins were taking no chances with her.

They were right to.

She craned her neck upward, glaring at the tiny object hanging from the bars. She wished all of her hatred upon that magical fetish which served as a lock to her prison. If hatred alone could cut locks Du'una would have burnt a hole through the floor. Now she pondered for a time... Was the magical enchantment truly so powerful as to prevent her escape? Or did it only work because she believed it to?

It hardly mattered. The goblins were fools, and fools paid their price in the end. Du'una always had the last laugh.


	159. Chapter 159

"Another ale!" demanded Pearce loudly, "and more for my friends!" The forsaken sat wedged between two buxom wenches. He had already drank enough to make a full-grown tauren ill but the serving girls at the Salty Sailor kept up the flow of ale for as long as there was coin.

"Would you cut that out?" Kwahu grumbled, "We have work to do here."

"YOU have work to do here," Pearce corrected, "So go, do your thing, and I'll do mine. Hello ladies."

He grinned that horrible smile but the ladies only giggled. Kwahu suspected that they too would ply their kisses until his gold ran dry.

The druid headed out into the ramshackle town of Booty Bay. The goblin town of pirates and plunder. He glanced at the sun and made his way across the boardwalks to the shanty building that served as the goblin's barracks. The goblin sentries eyed him and ordered him to remove his weapons. Kwahu smirked slightly as he revealed he had none. As a druid, they could not take his weapons away. "I'm here to see Sergeant Tricket."

One of the goblins hurried off and returned with another. This one was tiny like the rest of his kind, same green skin and large nose. A large puckered scar from chin to eyebrow marked him as the Sergeant.

"Ah, the druid I presume?" Goblins always spoke with an irritating high-pitched whine and sense of superiority. Kwahu ignored it today.

"Kwahu Darkmane." He bowed. "I was told you could help me with a certain prisoner."

The goblin rubbed his hands together. It was clear the gold coins were already jingling in his head. "Perhaps, perhaps. Which prisoner exactly…?"

"A troll female. Ugly. Dark blue hair and skin. Name is Du'una."

The goblin stopped short and pursed his lips. "She's scheduled to be hanged tomorrow."

Kwahu's breath caught in his throat but he tried not to give away his emotions. The goblins would take every copper he owned if they sensed his desperation. "I only desire to speak with her."

"Hmmm." The goblin tapped his chin with a long clawed finger. "Perhaps I could arrange something. Will be very difficult you see. Very difficult."

Kwahu expected this. He dropped a couple of coins into the goblin's hand, and the sergeant returned to his smiles.

"But of course! If you'll just follow me, she's kept in isolation. She's a very dangerous one you see."

Kwahu nodded and followed the tiny creature as he led the way into a rocky crevasse beneath the port city. "What exactly is she imprisoned for?"

The goblin cackled loudly. "Everything."

"Ahh." Kwahu swallowed. For Tiponi, he reminded himself.


	160. Chapter 160

The goblin led Kwahu down a dark winding corridor. There were many twists and turns, and additional corridors leading into the darkness. Escape from a place like this would be very difficult. Finally they came to a large wooden door on heavy hinges which spun open to reveal the first patch of light Kwahu had seen since entering the tunnels. The light came from a thin opening at the very top of the roof. Too thin for even a goblin to fit through. Sitting by the door was an enormous flabby figure. It was mostly naked, but it had no need for armour as its skin was tough as iron. Despite its double chin and fat rolls, Kwahu knew ogres were not to be underestimated. They possessed great strength and endurance.

The goblin easily walked around the ogre guard but Kwahu had to breathe in and be wary where he placed his hooves. The ogre looked at them but did not move from his position. Ogres were quite dumb, but they could follow simple instructions. Goblins often hired ogre bodyguards because they were tough, and easily outsmarted by their tiny master. The sergeant gestured to a metal cage at the end of the stone corridor.

"Five minutes." He said as he walked out the door, leaving Kwahu alone with the sweaty ogre and filthy troll.

Kwahu approached the cage. The troll was even uglier than he remembered seeing her last, and more sober. She sat huddled in a corner of the cage with her knees brought up to her chest for warmth. He didn't know what to expect, he still felt anger for her, but conflicted pity for any creature trapped in a cage. He certainly did not expect her eyes to be so clear and devoid of fear.

"Oi guard!" She called, her troll accent thick and a little difficult for him to understand, "I be needin a side of roots to go wit dis steak!" She cackled exposing her yellowed teeth and long tusks.

"I am Kwahu," the druid said as he moved closer.

"NO!" the deep voice startled Kwahu, and he hoped Du'una hadn't noticed how high he jumped. "Stay far, little tauren. Bad troll." The ogre pointed, and Kwahu nodded back. He could probably take down an ogre in his bear aspect, but the ogre took up most of the dark stone hallway. Fighting him in here would put the druid at a significant disadvantage.

"Do you remember me?" he continued addressing the troll.

She shrugged noncommittally. "Should I?"

Kwahu gritted his teeth. He wanted to curse her. To slam her head into those rusty metal poles for lying to him. Instead he breathed deeply and imagined his Master's calming words.

'I spoke to you in the Forsaken lands. I was looking for my sister, Tiponi. You said, you never met her." Kwahu spoke slowly and deliberately. He had to use every bit of his self control to keep from raising his voice.

The troll did not bat an eyelid. She remained seated, picking at her teeth with her dirty fingernails. "So what if I did?"

Kwahu lost it. He growled and slammed his fist into the bars. Despite their rust they held strong. "She needed help! I could have gotten to her sooner! I…" Kwahu trailed off as he noticed the ogre lifting himself up from his tiny stool. He didn't want to plead but he could not stop the desperation from entering his voice." Look, she needs help now. You can do the right thing now. Make up for your mistakes."

The troll cackled like he'd told the funniest joke she'd ever heard. "Damnit I'm serious! How can you laugh? You go to the noose tomorrow!"

If that knowledge scared her she did not show it. "De goblins, dey know nuttin about da proper ways of killin an enemy. I be a Witchdoctor." She pronounced the every syllable of the word deliberately. "Dere be no stoppin' me. I be risin as a spirit to take mah revenge, an in time, I may even be findin a new body. Tomorrow? Ha! Changes nothing."

Kwahu swallowed. The woman was mad. Completely mad. But she was the connection, the way to find his sister. He was sure of it. "Please?" he begged.

"Come little Tauren." The ogre had reached him and wrapped his large chunky arm around him. Pulling back the large bull was like lifting a child to the huge ogre.

The troll only laughed as Kwahu was dragged away.


	161. Chapter 161

"I don't understand. If she's such a powerful Witchdoctor, why doesn't she use her powers to escape?" In comparison to the dark tunnels with the weight of the stone upon his shoulders, Kwahu felt as though the goblin barracks was as bright and open as his homelands. He sighed deeply, but instead of the scent of the grasslands the salty tang of the sea port filled his nose.

Sergent Tricket brought a lit match up to the cigar in his mouth and drew deeply before turning it around in his hands and inspecting it. "Did you not see the charms?"

Kwahu shook his head.

"We hang them around the cage, they ward away the troll voodoo."

Kwahu tried to recall. He had seen feathers, beads, small bones tied around the cage. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time. "They're that strong?"

The goblin nodded, exhaling a plume of smoke through his large nostrils. "They are part of the trolls own magic, turned against them. She won't be getting out anytime soon, and tomorrow it will be too late." He laughed and some of his fellow goblin city guards joined his high-pitched hooting.

Kwahu swallowed. He was right, tomorrow it would be too late. The troll had given him nothing useful to work with, and despite her assurances, Kwahu did not believe that her spirit would return upon death. All creatures, even loathsome trolls returned to the Earthmother upon their demise. He needed more time, he needed… he needed Du'una. "I don't suppose the execution could be delayed?" he asked.

The goblin's eyes widened in incredulity. "Whatever for?" the Sergeant asked.

Kwahu shrugged and tried to appear casual. "She wasn't very free with her information. I would like to question her some more."

"Sorry tauren, no can do." The goblin shrugged, "Besides, if she doesn't help you now, what makes you think an extra day will change her mind?"

Kwahu cursed inwardly. He was right, she had been entirely disinclined to assist him. Perhaps, he needed to win her favour… Goblins were well known for their vices... but subtlety was not his strong suit. "Would it be possible…" he hesitated, but he did not have skill with words. He decided to be direct. "...to pay for her transgressions in gold. I mean, we're in Booty Bay. Everything has a price, does it not?"

His casual mask slipped as the goblin smiled widely, revealing pointed teeth. "But of course." He rubbed his hands together, and Kwahu swallowed. This would not be cheap. "But…There are others who wish to see her hanged. Very prominent, rich people. You understand?" The goblin punctuated every word. "But perhaps, we could cut a deal to benefit us both, after all like you said, this is Booty Bay." One of the goblin soldiers burst out laughing and Sergeant Tricket elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"What is your price?"

The goblins whispered for a moment before the sergeant spoke. "She's a dangerous troll, with an expensive bounty on her head. The bounty alone was five hundred gold pieces."

Kwahu's mouth went dry. He'd never seen so much money before. He grew up in a poor village. His life consisted of hunting and gathering until he left for a to study druidism. He did not even possess a quarter of that amount. The goblin continued, "Then of course there are holding costs, paying the guards, hiring the scaffolding, extra expenses you see?" His eyes were shining with the prospect of gold.

Kwahu snorted, "Bah, nevermind then. I'll just have to find myself another troll."

The goblin's ears veritably drooped as he packed up and left the barracks. Getting that amount of gold would be impossible. He would need to find another way. Du'una was his only hope to find his sister.


	162. Chapter 162

The denizens of Booty Bay revelled until the early hours of the morning. Kwahu waited patiently for his opportunity. Rowdy sailors and drunk patrons sang bawdy songs until they passed out from cheap ale and weariness. An'she was only an hour or so from rising over the horizon. The goblin guards were drowsy, they were nearly at the end of their shifts and were not as alert. Now was the time. He crept out across the wooden planks on padded paws. The feline aspect was a master of stealth. His paws were light and his red fur blended into the shadows. The cat's eyes were sharp, much keener than his own in near darkness.

He crept across the slumbering port-city as a silent shadow. It did not take long to find the entrance to the tunnels. He could easily smell the scent of the goblins and the foul ogre leading a trail. Keeping to the walls he easily navigated the twists and turns, relying on his nose to lead the way.

He took a deep breath once he arrived at the heavy door. His cat form was not dextrous enough to work a handle. He began to shift, feeling his muscles stretch and his bones realign had initially felt peculiar and uncomfortable, but now he hardly noticed it. He worked hard at breathing slowly, quietly, keeping his hooves steady as he reached for the door. Although it was a large heavy wooden door, it posed no challenge for the Tauren bull. He forced himself to work slowly, to swing open the wood only an inch at a time. His mind raced, he imagined himself being discovered at any moment and he began to sweat, losing his grip on the door handle. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue, slowly and quietly. When at last the door was open enough he melted back into his cat form and padded into the corridor.

The light of Mu'sha dimly filled the room. He padded past the ogre, who was asleep and drooling, over to the troll in the cage. She stared at him intently with red eyes, smirking quietly. He reached up to the bars, grabbing one rusted piece of metal in his teeth. She shook her head at him fiercely and held a finger to her lips. She was right, the twisting metal would wake the ogre and goblin guards. He didn't know if these tunnels had an alternative exit. He looked around, desperate for a solution. Would the ogre have a set of keys? Unlikely. Ogres were not well trusted by their goblin employers. He cursed himself for not thinking things through. He noticed the troll gesturing to him, she was pointing at the corner of the cage. He padded in for a closer look.

It was a small bundle. It looked like the skull of a small lizard tied with leather to some red feathers and a small bundle of herbs. He was puzzled for a moment until he remembered what the goblin had told him. Charms, to ward off the troll voodoo. He swallowed nervously. This was it, the point of no return. Kwahu had always considered himself to be a good person, a role-model for other young shu'halo to aspire to. He was teased as a calf for always doing what he was told, and never breaking any rules. But this time he had been left with no other options. He began to remove the charms from the cage, trying to ignore the troll's wicked smile as he did so.

As the last charm fell to the floor a sick feeling washed over him. The troll had disappeared. He cursed himself and frantically tried to formulate a plan when he began to feel a chill wash over his bones. Kwahu started to shrink, smaller and smaller. His red fur disappeared and became slimy scales. He held up his paw. It was no longer a paw, but a webbed foot. He then caught a glimpse in the pale moonlight, of a tiny frog leaping its way up the wall towards the hole near the ceiling. The troll! He jumped forward, surprised as how far his froggy legs propelled him. At the last moment, out of sheer impulse, he turned back and picked up the red-feathered lizard skull charm in his large froggy mouth. He just could not bring himself to trust this troll.

The hole led into the open jungle. Kwahu had no idea where he was so he followed the troll as their amphibious forms fell away and they returned to their true bodies. Du'una cackled with glee as she darted through the undergrowth. Kwahu was forces to shift to his feline just to keep pace with her. How was she able to manage such sure footing over the rocks and exposed roots? After running for almost an hour, An'she's light began to cover the land. They seemed to be heading deep into the Stranglethorn jungle, a dangerous place to be sure. Kwahu returned to his tauren form as he tried to catch his breath.

"Where are we going?" he panted. The troll did not reply so he asked again.

"North." Was all she said.

"Look, " he gasped, "I did not go through all this trouble for nothing. I need your help. Just tell me where Tiponi is."

The troll smiled and began to walk off again. Kwahu felt his restraint snap. Anger began to flood his veins. After everything he went through! He roared as the rage of the bear swept through him. He could have bitten her head off.

She just laughed. "Easy dere. Kwahu, was it? I be grateful, and I be helping ya find ya precious sister. Follow."

It was not a request. The troll did not even look over her shoulder to check that he kept up. She assumed, rightly, that he had no other choice. He growled low as he plodded after her into the jungle.


	163. Chapter 163

Hamilton blinked and squinted in the light. The last few hours were a blur and by the way the world rocked back and forth he concluded that Forsaken could indeed suffer hangovers.

"Good to know." He muttered as he sat up and immediately cursed as his head hit a low hanging wooden beam. He shook his head and reworked his jaw back into position.

"Where am I?" He wondered aloud. He was in a hammock and as he swung his feet over the side onto the wooden floorboards he realised that he was not alone. A plump dwarf woman and, was that an orc? He raised his eyebrows. The two women curled around each other still sleeping soundly. Hamilton realised he was grinning widely. "Can't have been that bad a night." He smiled.

He opened the only wooden door in the small room and stumbled out into the light. The world continued to move and sway but it didn't make him ill. Only a little disorientated. As his vision cleared he looked around.

"Oh no…" He was on a deck, of a ship. There were sailors of all sorts of races scaling the ropes and working the sails. Clear blue water stretched around him in all directions. "How am I going to explain this to Kwahu?"

He took a few shaky steps but stopped suddenly, gawking as the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes upon slid down a rope to land before him. She was human, with perfect pale skin, long blonde hair and eyes the colour of the ocean. She reminded him a little of Priestess Clarissa and he couldn't help but grin stupidly at her. This human wore tight leather pants with thigh-high boots and white ruffled blouse. Her large hat with a long feather marked her as the captain of this vessel. He licked his lip.

"And how is my newest sailor feeling this morning?" She addressed him, and her voice was a smooth clarion song. He fumbled, tried to remember how to speak. She was so beautiful, and he wanted her desperately. She smiled, "Slept well I trust?" He nodded enthusiastically. "Alright Hamilton, then get dressed and get to work." She smiled and floated away to give order to her other crewmates.

Hamilton grinned broadly. "Sorry Kwahu my good man, I have duties to attend to."


	164. Chapter 164

The air was hot and humid. Kwahu and Du'una kept a rapid pace through the jungle. Kwahu's throat was raw and his fur was matted with sweat. They'd made enough ground now that they could slow their pace. As the hours passed the likelihood that the goblins could catch up to them began to dwindle.

The troll still gave no hint as to where they were headed but she moved with a sense of purpose. Kwahu had become so accustomed to the jungle undergrowth by now that he was startled when they ran out into the open road. The troll stopped and bent over double, holding her side. So, he mused, she was not so strong as she pretended. She caught his glance and straightened up.

"We be havin a gain on them. Now we be makin faster travel on da road."

He nodded. Moving through the jungles did slow them down, they had to check their footing, move around trees and roots, but the jungle also concealed them. The dirt road ran from Booty Bay all the way north, cutting its way through the undergrowth. They would move faster on the road, but they would be easily visible.

Du'una started down the road, at a brisk walk and Kwahu followed in step behind her. It was cooler on the road. A faint breeze drifted through the trees, bringing with it the scent of the sea. The thick jungle canopy pooled shadows around shards of sunlight. They followed the road across a swinging rope bridge over a crystal blue river. The bull would have loved to take a dip in that cool clear water, but they could not stop now. Kwahu squinted above the treeline. A large structure floated lazily down from the sky into the trees.

"Look!" Kwahu called as he pointed, "The zeppelin! That must be the Horde settlement Grom'gol."

Du'una barely glanced in that direction and kept going.

Kwahu gritted his teeth. "Why won't you just tell me where Tiponi is?" She continued to walk away from him without a word. Kwahu growled and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. As the trolled turned she lashed out with her claws, striking Kwahu across the face and drawing blood.

She was so fast, it happened so quickly Kwahu was left stunned. He didn't even think of shifting to bear. Instead he stood gaping at her as she spoke. "I do not know where your precious Tiponi be. Alright?"

Kwahu's rage filled his veins and he became the bear in an instant. "You led me all this way for nothing!?" His roar garbled his words as he pounced. He pinned the troll to the ground under his bulk, her claws dug into his wrists but did not pierce his bear hide. "WHY!?" He roared in her face.

Despite being crushed beneath a bear the troll remained utterly composed. Truly nothing seemed to scare her. "I do not be knowin where your sister be, but… I do be knowing somebody who do. Dat's where we be headed." She smiled exposing her yellowed tusks.

What Kwahu was going to say next was forgotten as something flicked past his vision. The arrow swiftly left a gash below his eye. He leapt off the troll and searched for the source of the projectile, it had come from the jungle. Kwahu's eyes darted left and right, examining the shadows when another arrow sped towards him. This one pierced his thigh and he roared in pain. He staggered towards his unkown assailant as blood poured out of his leg.

Suddenly there was a flash of light and a scream. A strange figure ran screaming from the forest. He dropped and rolled to the ground in a vain attempt to quench the flames covering his entire body but it was no use, in only a few moments the body was still. Kwahu looked from the body to Du'una. The troll dusted herself off and scrutinized the corpse of their enemy.

Kwahu bit into the embedded arrow and snapped off the shaft. A wave of agony passed through him but he only grunted. Blood poured from the wound as he dug out the arrowhead, then his body melted back to his tauren form. The bear was tougher, stronger, and returning to his normal form made Kwahu light-headed but it was the only way he could heal. He closed his eyes and concentrated. At first there was nothing but the throbbing pain and the threat of lost consciousness looming. The healing arts did not come as easily to Kwahu as other druids. His strength was the bear. Slowly, so very slowly, he began to feel the warmth seep into his wound, knitting his muscle back together. By the time he was done, there was barely a mark left on his skin. He was exhausted, but whether that was from the healing or running all day he could not say.

He staggered slightly as he moved beside the troll. "What is it?" He asked.

The creature had hooves and properly angled legs like his own people, but there the similarities ended. The creature was humanoid, clearly a male judging by its black beard and broad shoulders. Instead of fur it had blue skin covering some sort of skull ridges, and it had a long hairless tail.

The troll rummaged around the corpse, digging out a couple of coins and some dried fruit and nuts. She gestured to a copper badge adorning the creatures shirt. It was the lion's head shield. The symbol of the Alliance.

"Draenei. He be an enemy." She replied, and turned back Northward.

"Shouldn't we bury him?" Kwahu asked.

"Ha!" The troll cackled aloud. "Do you be tinkin he doin' you da same be our positions reversed? He be costing us enough time." She turned her back and began to walk, assured that Kwahu would follow.

Kwahu knew she was right, but he could not dishonour his people by simply leaving the body without a word. He knelt in the sand and whispered a quick prayer for his unknown enemy. "May we meet again in the Earthmother's arms."


	165. Chapter 165

Another worn piece of parchment falls out of the diary. Tiny, familiar script lines the surface. This one reads: "How the Prairie Dog Lost His Tail"

_This story was told to me by my Grandmother, and if it pleases the Earthmother, I will tell it to you._

This is the story of how the Prairie Dog lost his tail.

Long, long ago, back when Azeroth was young, the world was not much different than it is now.

But a great many things have changed, and none so much perhaps, as the tiny Prairie Dog.

Have you ever seen a Prairie Dog? They are cute, tiny, fluffy little things that zip into the ground at the slightest hint of trouble. They make fine eating too.

The Prairie Dogs you see today all have this pathetic, useless, little stub of a tail. But this was not always so.

There was a time, long, long ago when the little Prairie Dog had a long, luxurious, beautiful tail. It was the envy of many.

The Prairie Dog's tail was long, as long as its body. And it was fluffy, soft and warm, and it had a stripe of white down the middle like fresh cream.

Now it so happened that the Spirits were going to have a refreshing swim down at the watering hole.

Eagle was there, and Zhevra, Plainstrider and Kodo. All these spirits went to relax in the cool water.

Prairie Dog heard the other spirits speak of their plans and he wanted to join them in the crystal clear pool.

"Friends," he called, "I hear you are going for a refreshing swim. I should like to come."

The other spirits rolled their eyes. They did not want the Prairie Dog to come, because all he ever did was talk about how beautiful his tail was.

"No, you cannot come with us." Replied proud Eagle.

"Why not!?" demanded the little Prairie Dog, lashing his long tail behind him.

The spirits scratched their heads and came together, attempting to think of a reason to give Prairie Dog not to join them.

And so it happened then that Eagle's sharp eyes spied the slinking form of Coyote, watching from the bushes.

This is perfect! thought Eagle, "Prairie Dog, you cannot come with us. Can't you see Coyote there stalking behind the bushes?"

"Coyote is a trickster, he will attempt a viscous hoax. You must stand guard and make sure he doesn't get up to mischief."

Prairie Dog looked about, standing on his hind legs and sniffing with his little nose. He spied Coyote hiding and agreed to help his friends.

Eagle, Zhevra, Plainstrider and Kodo all began to strip off their clothes to go bathing.

Eagle took off his long feathered hat, Plainstrider took off his long feathered boots. And Zhevra and Kodo took off their pyjamas.

"Now take care of our clothes while we swim, Prairie Dog," said Eagle, "and be mindful of Coyote's tricks."

Prairie Dog nodded and swore that he would, and then the four spirit animals went down to the pool.

_The spirits were having a great time without Prairie Dog there. They were laughing and splashing and having fun._

Prairie Dog was growing very jealous, sitting there on the river bank by himself. As he lashed his stunning tail in irritation, coyote slinked up towards him.

"Hello there Prairie Dog." grinned the Coyote. Prairie Dog leapt into the air in fright but then boldly turned to Coyote.

"I'll have none of your tricks tonight, Coyote." He said defiantly.

"Tricks?" asked the Coyote, raising his paws in innocence, "No tricks. I just came to keep you company, you looked so lonely."

Prairie Dog shouldn't have listened to Coyote, but he was foolish. "Oh, thank you." He replied.

Coyote crept around to sit beside Prairie Dog. "Why do you sit here, while the others have all the fun?" he asked through grinning teeth.

"I have an important job," replied Prairie Dog, "I am guarding the other's clothes."

"Ah, how generous of you." smirked Coyote, "That is so kind, considering what the others said about you."

The Prairie Dog should not have listened. "What? What did they say about me?"

"Well," cackled the Coyote, "They didn't want you around them. They are so jealous of your beautiful tail. They sent you away spitefully, but still you aid them, how noble."

Prairie Dog fell for the trick, "They said that?" he grew angry, "How dare they!?"

"Don't fret, Prairie Dog," laughed the Coyote, "We can play a trick on them to get them back." And as he explained the trick, Prairie Dog began to laugh wickedly.

When the others returned to get their clothing there was no sign of Prairie Dog or Coyote.

It was only when they began to get dressed that the wicked trick was revealed. Eagle's hat was missing. To this day the bald Eagle is without his hat.

Plainstrider's feathered boots were also gone, so now all Plainstriders expose their bare legs.

Kodo's skin had been stretched so far that it was now saggy baggy in places, and poor Zhevra's pyjamas had great black stripes painted on them.

The spirits were furious. They searched high and low for Prairie Dog, screaming his name and threatening punishments.

Prairie Dog heard this and he was very scared. He did not wish to make the others so angry, and now that the trick was done, he regretted it.

He ran from Eagle, Zhevra, Plainstrider and Kodo as they chased him, and as he ran he finally found Coyote.

"Please Coyote, save me! Tell them it was your idea! You're the trickster, not I!"

The Coyote grinned even fiercer. "I am the trickster, and I taught you all a lesson. Heed it well."

With that last word Coyote snapped at Prairie Dog's tail. Prairie Dog squealed and cried in pain as his luscious tail was torn off by Coyote.

Years later, the other spirits have forgiven Prairie Dog for his foolish actions. He is much less prideful without his splendid tail.

All that is left is a horrible little stump, and it shames Prairie Dog so much that he spends most of his days hiding under ground forevermore.

And that is the story of how the Prairie Dog lost his tail.


	166. Chapter 166

The troll kept a quick, steady pace, designed to cover as much time as possible without wearing themselves out. Kwahu shivered as he noticed a sudden chill in the air. The temperature continued to drop as they headed north.

"Now, when we be crossin da bridge ahead, we be entering da land of Duskwood, human lands." The troll always seemed to talk to him as though he were a calf. "Dere be Alliance dere, but also dead tings, and beasts in the forest. We keep to da ridge of da mountains, stay off da road. Now go."

Kwahu rolled his eyes at her vanishing back. He did not appreciate that Du'una had taken command of his expedition but the troll had given him little choice. So he bit his tongue and kept quiet, for now. He kept a watchful eye for Alliance patrols as he crossed the wooden bridge leaving Stranglethorn Vale. As soon as they reached the other side, they left the road for the shelter of the trees. They were so large, and their canopy so thick that very little light hit the forest floor. It almost seemed like perpetual night time, and he could almost image Mu'sha hanging overhead, even though she was still an hour or two away. Thick cobwebs coated the trees, and Kwahu hoped that he would not have the misfortune of meeting a spider large enough to spin such webs.

They crossed through a seemingly abandoned field, now heavily overgrown and being reclaimed by the forest. Du'una lead Kwahu to a small shack, also in a heavy state of disrepair.

"Are you sure this is wise?" He asked, "These are human buildings."

"Do you be blind Tauren? Can ya not see the dust and cobwebs? Dis place be abandoned for a long time. We need rest. Tomorrow, we finish dis and I be goin home."

Kwahu nodded, he could hardly contain his relief at being rid of the loathsome troll.


	167. Chapter 167

Nightmares plagued Kwahu's rest. They filled his mind with concerned thoughts for his sister as well as a dark cackling figure that shifted forms between a troll and a forsaken. Kwahu was quite relieved when the troll roused him, though it did not appear that An'she had yet risen.

Du'una noticed him staring at the sky, "It be forever dark in dis place. Come, we be not far now."

Kwahu took up his position behind the troll as she led him deeper into the forest, following the southern mountains. She kept her quick pace and Kwahu had to hurry to keep up with her. She seemed just as comfortable in this forest as she had in the jungles of Stranglethorn. The large tree roots didn't trip her up at all and she barely made a sound passing over the dead leaves carpeting the ground.

Kwahu was relieved. This place did not seem nearly so terrible as he had first imagined it. There had been no sign of any humans or abnormally large spiders. It seemed like they might pass through Duskwood unnoticed.

Du'una slid down an incline, using her hand to steady herself as she landed balanced at the bottom. Kwahu squinted down at her. How did she do that without hooves? Troll feet must be tougher than other softfoots, he reasoned. Kwahu struggled to steady himself by grabbing at branches and shrubs as he slowly climbed his way down. The troll stood below, her arms crossed and her foot tapping with impatience.

Slow and steady, he thought, just take it nice and..."Oof!" His hoof slipped. It was not far to fall, but he landed hard on his rump.

"Could you be makin' any more noise?" The troll hissed at him.

Kwahu glowered at her from the bushes. He should have climbed down in his feline form, he would not have slipped then. Somehow he felt as though he had been competing with the troll. He wanted to prove that he could do it too. Silently he cursed his own foolishness. He looked around as he rubbed his sore behind. They seemed to be in a clearing with some sort of opening cut into the rocky wall.

"Where..?" He started but he was cut off by Du'una hissing for silence. She looked around warily and drew her bone dagger.

Kwahu heard the low growl only a second before it struck. The wolf lunged at his throat, jaws snapping, and he only barely deflected it, throwing the beast to one side. Not a wolf, he realised as he regarded the creature. It was much larger, and walked as a tauren. But if the beast was sentient it showed no sign in its red eyes.

"Dere be more!" the troll warned as he spun around. The creatures moved together, circling the pair, sizing them up. It was hard to tell exactly how many beasts there were as they crouched in the shadowy mists, slinking to the ground behind the bushes.

"They hunt like a pack." Kwahu realised aloud. Like wolves. Perhaps if he could find the dominant male, he could scare the others off. "Look for the biggest one." He told the troll. If she had doubts, she said nothing.

One of the beasts lunged at the troll. Kwahu moved to help her but was cut off by a flash of fur and a swipe of claws across his flesh. The creatures had separated them easily. Kwahu heard his own growl deep in the back of his throat as he called to the spirit of the Bear. His flesh began to ripple as his teeth and claws grew long and sharp. He roared as he swatted a wolf-creature aside.

Out of the corner of his vision he saw a smoking body fly backwards into the trees, howling in agony. "Dere!" The troll called, "In da entrance to da mine."

A mine. That's what this place was. Humans would dig into the earth, scarring her surface and poisoning the rivers that were her lifeblood. Carved into the rock, the tunnel stretched into the depths of the ground. A very large beast stood in the tunnel, a full head taller than the others. It looked at Kwahu and there was no mistake. An evil intelligence stared back.

"Hold them off." he ordered the troll as he confronted the leader. He did not look back to see if she obeyed. He squared off against the leader, beast against beast. The creature lunged at him, its jaws locked onto Kwahu's fur but did not pierce his thick druidic hide. Kwahu raked the beast with his claws, scoring deep gashes down its face. He roared, hoping the creature would back down. No such luck. It leapt again, jaws wide.

"Don't let it bite you!" the troll called. If he weren't so preoccupied, Kwahu might have laughed.

"Any other sage advice?" He roared back as he kept the creature at bay with his heavy paws. It was no use. Despite its intelligence the creature fought like a rabid animal maddened by the scent of blood. It was time to put it out of its misery.

Kwahu waited for the beast to strike again, to over expose itself. There, a clean shot. He went for the throat. It was easy to become lost in the kill. To lose himself to the predator inside him and become the beast. But not this time. He was grounded, by Tiponi, and by thoughts of his master.

He tore out the creature's throat and spat the blood onto the ground as he turned to see the others. Du'una stood panting in the mine's doorway, clearly she was tiring. The creatures were backing off with hunched spines, eyeing him and the fallen one. Kwahu growled a low warning and the beasts vanished into the forest. He returned to his Shu'halo form, still wiping his mouth.

"Not bad." the troll nodded, "Did it bite?" Could it be she actually was concerned for him?

He laughed, "It takes more than that to get through a druid's skin."

The troll nodded in satisfaction. "We be nearly dere now."


	168. Chapter 168

Kwahu followed Du'una as they kept to the shadowy forest, alongside the road past the human town she called "Darkshire". There the road split and they followed the eastward path, away from the human lands. On the side of the road stood a decrepit tower. It must have once served as a watchtower in ancient times, but was now it was crumbling to pieces.

"Be careful what you say." the troll whispered in hushed tones.

Kwahu nodded and strode up to the tower. If the troll hadn't told him otherwise, he might have presumed it to be long abandoned. Even now as he drew closer it showed little sign of recent occupation. But still... there was a presence here. The druid strode under the doorway into the tower interior.

It was very dark inside. Although the roof had caved in, the dim sunlight of Duskwood did little to illuminate the inside of the tower. Kwahu saw fallen stones, a thick layer of dust and scraps of wood. Then a sight made him freeze in his tracks. Three pairs of glowing golden eyes, the unnatural glow of a Forsaken.

He cleared his throat. "I am Kwahu Darkmane, student of Turak of Thunderbluff." He honoured them with a curt bow. "I seek a Forsaken named Hyzanthlay."

He waited while the Forsaken turned to one another in silence. After a few moments during which Kwahu realised he was holding his breath, three figures emerged from the darkness. Two were male, skinny and bony as was typical of the Forsaken. The female was broad for her kind, and she stank of kingsblood. So, the deaders smoked the weed did they? Perhaps they could be bought.

"I am she." The woman reeked of self-assurance. She grinned at him as she swayed slightly and lit a fat cigar between rotten lips. She blew the smoke in his face. "What do you want?"

Kwahu wanted to cough, but instead blinked and concentrated on trying to keep his eyes from watering. "I seek word of my sister, Tiponi." He glanced around, noticing that Du'una clung to the shadows behind him. "The troll says you might know where she is."

The golden eyes drifted behind him, and Kwahu noticed them flicker in recognition. "I have not seen Tiponi since we parted ways in Tirisfal." the woman rasped, then drew deeply from her cigar.

Kwahu felt his eye begin to twitch as the rage inside him began to smoulder. He wasn't sure if he was angry at the troll or the forsaken. Du'una had led him on a wild chase. Or perhaps the deader was lying. Had she been the one to corrupt his sister? The Forsaken almost seemed to read his mind...

"She was never the same you know, Tiponi, I mean. Your sister, she grew darker. I noticed it right after she came back from Stranglethorn Vale. Perhaps she picked up a jungle fever." Hyzanthlay smirked.

Kwahu was vaguely aware that the troll had appeared beside him, and seemed to be taking great interest in the Forsaken's words. "Not a fever." He replied flatly, "She changed. She went from the lovely, peaceful sister that I knew... to..." The troll's gaze was innerving him. She was staring at him now, as if measuring him. Kwahu shifted his hooves as he began to feel the weight of the broken tower above him. "Look, do you know where she is or not?"

The deader took a moment to reply. She tapped the ashes of her smoke onto the dusty ground and shrugged. "I heard a rumour. You know of the portal to the new world that opened recently?"

Kwahu's eyes widened, "The one to the Outlands? Why would she go there?"

"Pssh. Fel-damned if I know. Maybe she wanted to get away from... someone." She grinned. Get away from him, she meant.

"I'm just to take your word?" This was all beginning to feel like an elaborate set up. Like his was a dog on a leash being led. But as long as there was the faintest chance that she was right, and this could bring him to Tiponi. He would have to take the chance.

Hyzanthlay shrugged again, she was the picture of arrogance. "Not my concern what you do. You asked, and my contacts are reliable."

They both knew it. He had no other choice. He bowed stiffly. "Thank you for your time, and may the Earthmother guide your steps."

"Good luck Tauren." the wicked forsaken smiled as he left the crumbling tower as quickly as he could.

It took him a moment to notice Du'una keeping place at his side. "We be fortunate, da Dark Portal be not far from here. Dis pass will take us to da swamp, den we be headin south to da Blasted Lands where da portal lies."

Kwahu spoke to the troll without turning. "I am grateful for your assistance. I'll admit that I did not trust your word, but you proved that you have some honour, troll. You fulfilled your obligation to me. May you go in peace."

She stopped suddenly and Kwahu turned to regard her. "I be not done with dis."

Kwahu felt his eyebrows climb high in surprise. She had already repaid him. Could it be that he misjudged her? Perhaps she wanted to help his sister after all. She had proven her worth in a fight, and it seemed she knew the way to this Dark Portal. He felt a surge of gratefulness towards the woman, as well as shame for his previous thoughts of her. "Thank you Du'una. You honour me."

He failed to notice the wicked grin that quickly slid across the troll's face.


	169. Chapter 169

Du'una followed the Tauren, her face as an expressionless mask. She might have looked to be deep in thought, or perhaps even bored, but inside Du'una's thoughts were racing.

At last she had found it! After all this time searching, it had fallen back into her grasp through destiny's hand. She had always coveted its power. She craved the infinite knowledge and dark powers granted to Mogh by the Demon Seed. She had rightly assumed that after she murdered her old master the crystal would pass into her hands, but instead her plans were ruined by that stupid little cow!

It had been so easy to manipulate the child. Slipping the kingsblood into her mug and then making up a story to convince her that she owed a debt was a stroke of genius! And the naive little cow bought it so easily too. She provided just enough distraction for Du'una to slaughter her dear old master and claim his soul for her own. Her mask slipped slightly as she smiled at the memory of his raging, silent screams.

And then it all went wrong! She cursed under her breath and forced her expression back to passiveness. The big oaf had shattered the crystal. Countless times since that day she had returned to the cave. She had scrounged on her hands and knees until the tiny shards of splintered glass had worked their way deep into her flesh as though she had knelt on a bed of cacti. But despite her hours of searching, it was gone. She was thankful at least that it had not been unleashed. The creature would certainly have devoured both her and the Tauren if it had been able to escape. Instead, somehow that stupid cow had taken it. She probably didn't even know what she had done.

What a troublesome little bessie Tiponi had turned out to be.

It didn't matter now. With the cow's bigger, stupider brother leading the way to her, Du'una would be reunited with the artefact in no time.

She grinned widely as excitement shone in her eyes. She would take great delight in cutting the Demon's Seed from Tiponi's flesh.


	170. Chapter 170

"Turn back. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." Kwahu read the sign aloud in the Common tongue. He walked slowly around the tree where desiccated corpses swayed on their nooses in the slight breeze. "The humans killed their own kind?"

Du'una scratched the side of her face with disinterest. "Traitors dey may be. Who knows. Maybe dey be takin der own lives. I be hearin dat dis land be cursed."

"And you believe in such things?" Kwahu raised an eyebrow. He did not think the troll would be so naive as to fall for children's stories.

"Ha! I be knowin enough about curses to make ya horns drop off." She paused and spoke more softly. "But you be da druid. Listen to da land, does it speak?"

Kwahu paused as she stared at him intently. He walked tentatively up to the tree, sidestepping the still-swaying corpses and placed his hand on its bark. Immediately he pulled away. He felt... He wasn't sure. It disturbed him, whatever it was.

"Cursed." Du'una nodded, "Tread carefully, Tauren."

They followed the dusty path as it wound its way through the mountains. Aside from that initial tree, very little vegetation grew here. Still, he could see signs of life. Many pairs of red eyes flashed from dark corners, and fresh spider webs hung between the rock crevasses.

Now that they were out in the open, Kwahu could tell that it was getting quite late. As they edged their way across a rocky platform to the other side of a deep ravine, the druid expressed his concerns. "Perhaps we should find shelter for the night."

The troll nodded and pointed to a small horizontal crack in the cavern wall. He might be able to fit in that. "You be makin a fire. I take first watch."


	171. Chapter 171

Kwahu shivered as another gust of wind slithered through the valley. Even though his campfire was small, it was not the chill that bothered him. The wind made a terrible noise through Deadwind Pass, like a low moan. Perhaps that is how it got its name. He shuddered, the groans almost sounded like the wails of the undead.

Another sound played on the edge of his perception. The troll snored. In with a rumble, out with a wheeze. It was quite irritating, but he didn't have the heart to wake her. He was only halfway though his turn of watching over their little camp.

The wind moaned again and he shuddered, pulling his blanket tighter around him. It was hand-stitched by his people in the lands of his birth, and he tried to focus his thoughts on his home and family. Even as it seemed the wind whispered his name.

With a grunt he sat forward on his knees, and began to pray. "Spirits of the Wild, Spirits of my Ancestors, Beloved Mu'sha." He glanced upward and instantly felt better at seeing the moon shining in even this cursed place. "I call to you for guidance in a time of great need. Please spirits, grant me the strength to find my sister."

He was not a seer. He did not have conversations at length with the spirits like the shaman of his tribe, but thanking the spirits was a way of life for a Tauren. So it was with such surprise that he almost fell over when a misty, translucent form materialised before his eyes. He gawked, trying to form the words. The only thing he could say was "Troll!?" He coughed and cleared his throat. "I mean, you are a troll." The spirit was the same wiry build he was accustomed to seeing in the trolls of the Horde. This one would have been tall, perhaps even as tall as Kwahu if it weren't holding its own severed head in its arms.

That too was unusual. Tauren ancestor spirits often appeared calm, and serene, and _intact_. Kwahu realised that Tauren or not, he was making a fool of himself. "Spirit, I thank you... for..." He trailed off. The troll had placed its severed head on its neck stump as was twisting around as if trying to work out a cramp. He jumped as the spirit spoke.

"You be... da blood... of da female." The spirit's voice was hollow, ethereal, and it was clear that this particular spirit was unfamiliar with the Common tongue. Kwahu had never before wished he could speak Zandali. The spirit was waiting for a response.

"Oh, ah... Yes, I seek my sister, Tiponi."

The troll nodded and swept past him. It did not move its legs at all, it simply drifted. It raised a clawed hand to point at the sleeping form of Du'una. "Dis one... betray you."

Kwahu stumbled. "What do you mean? Du'una is leading me to Tiponi, she is-"

"Do not trust..." the spirit hissed. "She knows... of da darkness... inside your sister. She seeks it." Kwahu's eyes widened as the spirit became to disappear.

"No, wait! Please wait! Who are you? What do you mean!?" Kwahu called, but it was no use. There was no sign that the spirit had ever existed.


	172. Chapter 172

Taalia's hooves dragged across the blackened soil as the demonic brutes hauled her toward the last flight of stairs. Even this high off the ground the ash plumes from the nearby tar pits congealed in her lungs. Her chest strained, she had coughed so much already that it pained her simply to breathe, and she retched as her captors carried her. She knew she was already dead, but she accepted her fate with the stoic honour worthy of a Vindicator. Her thoughts were flitting before her, dancing from one memory to the next as though her mind was racing to make use of the few minutes she had left. She thought of her brother and prayed that he had made it through the portal to the new world. May Azeroth treat him more kindly than Draenor had. She gazed below, at the demonic troops arrayed as far as her eyes could see. She did not feel fear, only regret for the loss of another world. This land was once lush and green. The brown-skinned orcs had a settlement here once, and she had traded with them before the war that changed everything. She could almost see it in her mind's eye now. That pool of belching lava was where Kandaani had learned to swim. He had begged her to climb the mountain with him and her breath had been stolen when the majestic valley was revealed below her. There was nothing left of it now. The clouds were blacked with filth and fel lightning arced across the sky. The soil was tainted by scores of demonic hooves, feet and talons as they laid claim to the valley. High above them in the fortress, Taalia looked down and beheld an army of wanton destruction.

Her journey was brought to an abrupt halt as the felguard restraining her threw her forward. Such was the force of their blow that she cracked her horns on the cold stone. The agony of her horn snapping was so painful that no sound escaped her throat. She shuddered as she tried to raise herself off the ground. The strength in her arms was spent but she struggled to face her killer defiantly. It was a monster. Truly only the most evil of creatures would side willingly with the Burning Legion. Only the most pathetic of mortals would sell their soul to the Betrayer. She had expected to see one of the Man'ari. She had been certain that it would have been one of her lost cousins that would have her head. The figure was clad in dark armour that cracked with the same fel energy as the heavens. Taalia was shocked, she had never seen such a creature before. Was it a demon? Her eyes were still wide in confusion as the creature efficiently slit her throat without a word. As the draenei's lifeblood spilled and her lips spoke their last prayer of thanks to the Naaru, Taalia wondered what manner of creature once again threatened the existence of her people. A strange creature with hooves, a dark mane and piercing green eyes.


	173. Chapter 173

A blast of fire narrowly missed Kwahu's head as he wrestled with the large brute. He and the troll had almost made it through Deadwind pass without incident when they accidently stumbled into an ogre encampment.

"Da shaman be havin' strong magics!" Du'una cried gleefully. "He be MINE! You hold back da others."

Ha! Like it would be so easy. He was having enough difficulty bringing down one ogre, let alone the rest of the tribe! The beast was larger than he, and tougher than even his bear form. Kwahu had called on the spirit of the lion to bring down this prey, snapping with his sharp teeth and lashing out with his claws. The ogres might be strong and tough, but speed was their weakness. As the agile lion he could leap out of the way of their strikes. The ogre raised its club high, surely it would shatter his skull if the blow connected. At that precise moment, Kwahu leapt up high, out of the way of the ogre's strike. He scrambled for purchase on the rocky cliffside. The ogre's swing had missed the cat and the momentum of the blow had carried the mace into the guts of another ogre. Kwahu had learned the hard way that ogre stomachs were as hard as cast iron. The struck ogre took a moment to figure out what had happened, then he swung a blow at his former comrade.

Kwahu growled a prayer of thanks to the Earthmother for the distraction. He was hanging, suspended above the group of squabbling ogres. He could feel his claws slipping on the stone. Ungracefully he clawed his way sideways atop a large stone boulder on the cliff face. If he could dislodge this rock onto the ogres he might actually survive this encounter.

The rock was heavy, and held in place by embedded plant roots. Kwahu propped himself between the boulder and the rock wall and tried to push them apart. He summoned all of his strength, but it was not enough. The rock didn't budge. From the sounds below, the ogres had ceased their squabbling and were now trying to figure out how to get at him.

"Come back kitty!"

"No! My pretty kitty!"

Please no! Let this work! It was no use, the lion was not strong enough for this task. He returned to his tauren form to transition to bear. Once again he wished he were as skilled as his masters, they could shift between forms quickly, and without the need to return to their natural form in between. In his tauren body he was vulnerable. He nearly fell from his rocky perch as something collided with his head. He slid, but managed to pull himself back up. A stone. The ogres were throwing small stones at him. Well, small for them; the rocks were the size of his head. Kwahu used the pain. He drank in the rage it brought and called to the bear. The spirit was content to answer.

With a roar he dug himself in. His hind paws were pressed against the boulder and his front paws against the rock face. He pushed. He strained until he could feel the veins bulging in his neck. The rock shifted. He quickly tried to regain his balance, the stone was not yet loose. He got back into position and continued. He roared his effort. His hind legs were beginning to wobble, and sweat poured in ripples down his fur.

Kwahu clenched his teeth tight and pushed with all of his might. He heard, rather than felt, his arm breaking. A loud snap, almost like a tree branch. Then the agony came. It washed over him like a river, threatening to drive away his consciousness into darkness. Kwahu willed himself to hold on, and to use the pain. Bear roared in his veins. His heart sang. Blood. Rage. Pain. Bear filled his mind entirely. Kwahu was gone.

The rock toppled. It crashed down onto the group of unsuspecting ogres and the bear rolled with the impact. Everything was red. Blood everywhere. On the ground, down his arms, in his eyes. The bear roared and turned towards the last creature still standing. The bear did not recognise the troll. Did not understanding the words she spoke. Rage clouded his mind. He raced towards her, jaws wide for the kill.


	174. Chapter 174

Suddenly the bear was flying. Or floating rather. The bear growled and swiped his paw at the air with his good paw, the other dangled uselessly, but that only served to upset his balance and he flipped upside-down. He roared in confusion and helplessness. In that moment of confusion, the bear's rage ebbed and Kwahu's consciousness began to return.

"Where... uh... what are you doing? Put me down!" Kwahu yelled as the bear melted from his flesh.

"Ya be back, den?" Du'una replied.

"Hey! Let me- oof! Down..." Kwahu rubbed his backside as the spell silently dissipated, planting the bull in the dirt.

As reality returned to him, so did the pain. Kwahu grit his teeth. He was never a particularly good healer. His strengths lay in the beast's form. He tried to summon the remainder of his strength, but his lifeblood was fading fast.

The troll turned and narrowed her eyes at him. "Bah! Must I be doin' everything?" She asked exasperatedly as she grabbed his arm roughly. Du'una's hands began to glow as she muttered words of power in her native tongue. Kwahu could feel the warmth of her healing begin to flow into him. She moved her hands suddenly, faster than he could see, as she pressed his bone back into place. He screamed in agony. He felt delirious. Was she smiling at him?

The pain began to fade as his bones reconnected. His tissues wormed their way back around, reconnecting tendons and ligaments. Finally his flesh knitted together. He gazed at his arm in amazement when she let it go. There wasn't even a scar. Only the missing fur hinted that he had ever had an injury.

Kwahu stared at Du'una in amazement. "You have a gift! You should-"

"What?" she snapped, "I should be helpin' others? Why? What have dey done for me? Bah!" She spat on the ground and started muttering in Zandali under her breath as she moved outside of his vision.

Kwahu tried to sit upright. The healing had sapped his energy. He felt as though he hadn't eaten in days and needed to sleep for many more. Suddenly he heard a strange sound. A snapping. A gurgling sound. He forced himself upright and crawled towards the troll. His eyes widened at what he saw.

The troll, Du'una, was _eating_ the ogre shaman! Kwahu gagged and swallowed what remained of his breakfast. Her face was red with blood, it stained her tusks and dribbled down her chin. She pulled out a long string of the ogre's intestines and began to eat them as though they were sausages.

"Du'una! What are you-"

The ogre groaned.

Kwahu screamed aloud. "Du'una! You can't! He's sentient! DU'UNA HE'S ALIVE!"

The troll shrugged, "Not for much longah," she winked at Kwahu as she cracked a bone in half. "He be havin strong magics, now his powah be mine!" She began sucking at the marrow.

Kwahu tried to pull himself closer. His energy, from the bear, from the loss of blood, and from the healing was completely spent. He collapsed back down onto the dirt. He could still hear the ogre's fitful breathing.

"Please, Du'una, don't do this. It isn't right!"

"Right! Ha! Trolls been doin' dis for longah den your people been existin'. YOU be havin' no right to tell ME what is right. Bah, you sound just like your sister."

Tiponi... Kwahu slipped into unconsciousness as the troll continued to eat.


	175. Chapter 175

A yellowed page falls out of the diary onto the ground. A familiar scrawl lines its surface: "The Chief's Son and the Coyote"

_This story was told to me by my Grandmother, and if it pleases the Earthmother, I will tell it to you._

This is the story of the Chief's son, and the Coyote.

There was once a tribe of Shu'halo, much like any other. They hunted, they travelled and they gave thanks to the spirits and the Earthmother.

Among them, the Chief's only son was brave, strong and handsome.

Unfortunately, the son was aware of his qualities, and so he was prideful and selfish.

The Chief was growing old, and it was now time for his son to take up his mantle to lead the tribe.

But first, he would need to take a mate, to bond with her, and to bear a child.

But the Chief's son thought so highly of himself that he turned all of the women in the tribe away.

"She is not pretty enough." He would say, "She is too dull." and so on.

Until one day the Chief's son went hunting in the woods. As he hefted his spear to take down his prey, his eyes widened in surprise.

Before him stood a woman, completely naked as the Earthmother had made her, with bright eyes and a long flowing mane. She was beautiful and she took his breath away.

He lost his thoughts of the hunt as he approached her, for he had already decided that she was to become his wife.

But when he asked for her name, she replied only with silence.

It turned out that she was a mute, unable to utter a single word. He lamented at the thought of her imperfection.

The Chief's son then considered her flaw and laughed aloud to himself. Why, this was not a flaw at all! He would never be burdened by her inane prattling.

So it was with great happiness that he brought her home to his village and presented her to his father.

The Chief was impressed that his son had found such a beautiful wife and swiftly arranged the coupling.

The two were wed immediately, and although the bride could not speak her consent, a nod sufficed.

And so after the feasting had ceased, the Chief's son took his new wife to his bedchamber, eager for the final part of their union.

He closed his eyes and he bent down to kiss her perfect lips when a horrid laughing sounded in his ears.

The woman melted and shifted, growing smaller and landing on all fours as her form became that of the coyote.

Now, we Shu'halo recognise Coyote to be a trickster, a manipulator and shape-shifter, but he is also very wise and often teaches us the lessons we least want to learn.

The Chief's son realised he had been tricked and cursed at the coyote as the spirit beast slinked out of his tent into the night.

The prideful son was too embarrassed to admit his folly to his kin, so he ran out after the coyote, naked into the wilderness.

It was there that he came across the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She shivered in the night air, naked as she was. Torn clothing hung off her body and scratches lined her flesh.

"Aha!" yelled the Chief's son, "I have found you at last! This is what you deserve for tricking me." and with that he launched his spear.

The woman screamed, loud and clear and collapsed to her knees. She looked up at him with those beautiful big eyes and whispered, "Why?"

It was then that the Chief's son realised that *this* was not coyote. He ran away from the dying girl into the night, his heart full of his shame and cowardice, never to return to his village.

That is the end of the story. Heed coyote's lessons well, for if you ignore him, the next lesson may be worse.


	176. Chapter 176

Kwahu marched behind the troll. He kept his expression flat, and focussed on her receding back. Outwardly, he appeared to be fixed on his goal, but inwardly his thoughts were racing. The troll was clearly insane. And dangerous. He wanted to be rid of her, but he doubted he would be strong enough to face her directly. Who knows what her foul voodoo magic was capable of? He could run perhaps... It was doubtful that she would chase him. She didn't need to, as she knew exactly where he was headed. What if she got there first? It was clear that she had her own agenda.

Du'una briefly stopped to study the path ahead leading through the murky swamp. The Swamp of Sorrows they called it. A depressing name for a depressing place. Kwahu had seen little sign of habitation since they arrived. A ruined watchtower with tattered red flags bearing the Horde insignia was sinking into the swamp. Insects flew in the air so thick that he could not help but inhale them with every breath, and it stank of something rotten. Kwahu's fur was matted with sweat, he silently hoped it was from the humidity and not his nervous state.

The troll was plotting something. She had her own reasons for seeking Tiponi, that much was clear. Why else would she go to all this trouble? The spirit had said Du'una knew what was afflicting his sister. Was she the one who was responsible for Tiponi's strange behaviour? He wanted to crush her throat, to make her tell him all her secrets and beg for his forgiveness. Kwahu smirked to himself at the thought. No, she was too strong. There was no telling what a madwoman would do. He needed to watch her, to make sure she was not up to something. He freed her from prison after all. She was his responsibility now.

"Can you fly?"

Kwahu blinked at the question. He had not been paying attention. "What?"

The troll kept up her brisk pace through the undergrowth despite sinking into the muddy swamp up to her knees. "We pass south, beyond da Blasted Lands into da Dark Portal. Dat be da easy part. On da other side, dere be an army of demons. We must fly."

Kwahu shook his head behind her. "I'm afraid I have yet to master that form, I am only a novice."

"Humph!" Du'una made a sound of disgust. "Den we be needin a mount. And I be knowin where tah get one - AHHH!"

The troll hissed with a sudden intake of breath. Kwahu had never before heard her sound so surprised. He reached forward to grab her flailing arms but missed as she fell face-first into the swamp. He moved forward to help her but froze when she screamed.

"STOP! Not one more step lest you be doomin us both!"

Kwahu halted, bewildered. The troll was covered in mud and with great effort she rolled over and lay splayed in the mud. "What-?"

"It be sinkin sands! Ya never seen da sinkin sands before, Tauren? Bah! Dey be claimin many a life in da Vale. Fetch me a long branch to be pullin me out."

"A branch, right. No problem." Kwahu started to move, and then he hesitated. For the first time since he had met the troll, she was at a disadvantage. He tapped his chin, twirling a finger around his braided beard before moving around her into her vision.

She looked a sorry mess, covered in mud and unable to move. He could leave her like this... She would not harm anyone else, would not get in his way. It would serve her right for being such a b****. He grinned.

"What are you waiting for, beast? Pull me out!" Even now desperate as she was, anger, not fear flooded Du'una's voice.

"I need a few questions answered." Kwahu said quietly as he knelt at the edge of the sand pit.

"WHAT!?" the troll roared and twisted around. She began to sink deeper as she struggled to hold her head above the sands. "You DARE!? Deh godehsi fus'obeah weh fi yudo..." She spat trollish curses at him as she thrashed about.

"Stop Du'una, look, just answer these questions for me, then I promise to help you out." Kwahu cursed himself inwardly, why did he promise that? Too late, it was done.

"Ya promises be pig shit." She hissed and spat at him, missing his face.

"I swear, on my honour. I swear on the name of my tribe. I keep my promises Du'una."

The troll glowered but stopped her struggling. "I just need to know," he scratched his chin, he was never good with subtle words, "Do you know what has happened to my sister?"

Du'una laughed, "Ha, could be da jungle fever."

Kwahu did not smile, Du'una glared at him for a very long time. Kwahu forced himself not to break eye contact, despite whatever foul voodoos she might be trying on him. After a while she sighed. "Ya sister be infected, wit a demon."

"What? How!?" Kwahu sprang up to his hooves.

"She be fightin a powerful Witchdocta wit me. She fell onto an artefact which housed a demon. Demon be gone, but not released. If it be released it be killing us both. So, I be tinking a shard of da artefact be wit your sister, like a splinter."

Kwahu raised his hands to his head and took a deep breath. "What does that mean? How, how do we fix her?"

Du'una cackled. "Remove da splinter, but dat be difficult. It could be tiny, and I be doubtin she be holdin still for us to find it." The troll stared at him, her red eyes seemed to go on forever. "It might be better to grant her da peace of death."

"NO!" Kwahu roared and a flightless bird darted away in fear behind him. "I will NOT kill my sister. There MUST be another way! Surely you know of one, you are an expert in these things aren't you?"

Du'una sighed, "Well, you sistah could choose to be free."

Kwahu growled, "What? She can just choose it? That's ridiculous, surely if she could just choose to NOT be possessed by a demon she would have DONE it by now!"

"You know nothing tauren. She be not possessed, if she was tings would be different. Da demon be still trapped in da shard, not her body."

"What's the difference." Kwahu grunted.

The trolls tone had become very patient, like an elder instructing a young student. "She be hearin da demon's voice, maybe she not even be knowin it, but over time it be swayin her to its side. Everything Tiponi has done, she has done of her own accord, her own choice."

"You're wrong." Kwahu said, crossing his arms, "My Tiponi would never commit an evil deed."

"Den you do not know her at all. I saw her be commitin murder, and dat was BEFORE she shattered da crystal. Da demon did not make your sister do dese things. She did them."

"You're a filty troll whore, and a liar." Kwahu spoke through clenched teeth, "I will not hear you say those things about my sister."

"Do not hear den, does not make dem any less true."

Kwahu lunged forward and grabbed the troll by the scruff of her neck and hauled her out of the muck against a tree. Her back hit the tree with a loud crack and she fell to the ground.

Kwahu's eyes widened in shock, for a moment he thought he had killed her, then her eyes shot open with a glare. Before he could even think of shifting into bear form a jagged flash of red lightning flashed from her fingertips and arced towards him. The bull gritted his teeth for the impact to come but the red energy parted around him like a river around a rock.

The troll looked just as stunned as he did. He watched her warily as she pulled herself up and hobbled slowly over to him. She looked up at him with those cold, calculating eyes. "Clever tauren, to use da fetishes." She purred.

Kwahu's hand instinctively went to his throat where he felt the tiny lizard skull still nestled against his fur. He had almost forgotten it.

"Fine." she said as she wiped the mud from her arms. "Ya can die later. But dat demon's powah be MINE." She turned and began walking calmly away.

Kwahu let out the breath he did not realise he had been holding.


	177. Chapter 177

"Smells good." Kwahu grinned up at his older sister. Slightly plump with red spotted fur, Fala was almost an adult now and she stood nearly a full head taller than he. She stirred the big metal soup pot and paused to taste a spoonful.

"Mmm, it still needs something..." she said as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"I know what it needs!" The high-pitched voice accompanied a clattering noise from outside the tent as his younger sister burst into the kitchen.

"Tiponi, where have you been all day?" Fala put her hands on her hips in a motherly fashion and pointed her wooden spoon in the little girl's direction. "It was your turn to light the fires today."

The pale furred girl stuck out her lower lip in a slight pout. "I didn't forget Fala. I'll do it in a minute." Tiponi stood on the tips of her hooves to peer into the cooking pot. She reached her finger into the pot and was smacked away by Fala's ready spoon.

"You're too late. I did your chores already." Kwahu muttered as he crossed his arms and leaned against the far wall.

"Oh, thank you Kwahu!," Tiponi turned back to his older sister with a big smile. "Mmm... smells good Fala!"

Kwahu jabbed his finger in the little girl's direction, "Hey! Don't change the subject-"

"Tiponi! Where on Azeroth have you been?" Fala held the girl at arm's reach as she looked her up and down. Tiponi was covered from horns to hooves in thick brown mud. It liberally coated her face and stained her pretty dress.

"Look what I found!" Tiponi grinned widely as she held up a handful of dirt.

Kwahu peered closer, "Earthroot! Tiponi, you know you are not allowed to go so far from the village!"

Tiponi twisted from side to side and battered her big eyelashes, "They... they were under a rock. By the river." She looked down at her hooves guiltily.

"Look at me!" Kwahu's voice was getting louder and he ignored the pleading look Fala was giving him, "These roots only grow at the borders of Mulgore. You have skipped your chores, broken rules AND you have LIED to me Tiponi."

The little calf was beginning to tear up. She sniffled and wiped her face with her arm as Fala embraced her, getting mud all over her apron.

"Well, we can talk about this later." Fala said sweetly as she took the Earthroot from Tiponi. "These are just what I needed to spice up our dinner." She smiled at Tiponi and the little girl grinned back through her tears.

"NO!" Kwahu snatched the Earthroot from Fala and threw the root onto the open fire where it began to smoke and crackle immediately. "We should not profit from her bad behaviour. She has to learn boundaries Fala!"

"She's back, she's okay. Kwahu, you didn't have to do that..." Tiponi hid behind Fala's legs as the young woman softly spoke.

"Yes I did, you both need to learn. We cannot just pick and choose what rules to break when it suits us! If father heard about this he would-"

"He would do nothing." Fala whispered.

Kwahu grunted and grabbed a bowl of soup. He stormed out of the kitchen to the main tent muttering angrily under his breath. An older bull sat in the main room, facing the wall in his usual spot. Kwahu sighed and gently removed the faded painting from the older bull's hands, replacing it with the bowl of hot soup.

"Tiponi is being disobedient again, Father." He carefully placed the portrait to one side. He knew his father would not touch the soup, or break his gaze from the old painting of his mother.

Kwahu's eyelids flickered open as he stirred on his small pile of warm furs. In the distance he could just make out the dark form of Du'una keeping watch with her back to the campfire. He rolled over with a sigh and turned his gaze to the stars above, where they twinkled as a vast ocean of glittering lights washed across the heavens. He had gazed up at those lights since he was a child. Everything had seemed so much simpler then. Right was right and wrong was wrong. Had the world gotten so much more complicated? Or had he?


	178. Chapter 178

Kwahu coughed and took a deep breath as he broke through the surface of the murky water. He had never before been so grateful to inhale musty, stale air as this moment. Du'una had led him into an ancient trollish temple that had sunk deep into the swamp. The entranceway was completely flooded and Kwahu was thankful that there was still some air down here. He struggled to see in the gloom as Du'una tried to light a wet torch with flashes of fire magic. These ruins appeared old, older than even the ancient troll ruins he had seen in Stranglethorn. Moss lined the carved walls, obscuring relief images of a civilisation centuries gone, and weeds hung like curtains from the roof. He wondered if they were the first people to set foot inside this place in centuries.

"I be doubtin dat, dese ruins be home to da Atal'ai."

Kwahu hadn't realised he had spoken aloud. "The Atal'ai?"

"Aye, ancient troll civilisation, older than Skullsplitters and Darkspears. Back from when da troll empire was mighty." Du'una spoke with great pride in her voice.

"What happened?" Kwahu asked. Du'una had finally managed to light the torch and it lit up flickering murals lining the corridor as they walked.

"All tings come to an end in time." She replied cryptically. "But dey be not gone yet. Da dead linger, and dere be strong magics below."

"Be careful." He cautioned her and she laughed in amusement.

The tunnels into the temple seemed to be fashioned like a maze. Kwahu reasoned that it must have been designed to confuse grave robbers or hostile invaders. He did not ask how, but Du'una seemed to know which way to go. All manner of foul creatures slithered out of dark hiding places as they intruded deeper into the temple. Brightly coloured snakes slithered from worn cracks in the stonework and disappeared into the darkness behind them. Something squelched under Kwahu's hoof and he was hesitant to look.

Du'una stopped suddenly and quenched the torch into the mossy growth on the walls. They were plunged into darkness and Kwahu's eyes could not make out a thing beyond the flashing after-images of his vision lost.

"Dey come." Du'una fired a bolt of magic down the corridor ahead. In the light of her spell's wake, Kwahu could see the reflected eyes of a horde of shambling undead.

He swallowed nervously as the Spirit of the Lion flowed into him.


	179. Chapter 179

The only thing more disgusting than trolls, was troll mummies, Kwahu reasoned as he spat out a glob of foul tasting fluid. The ancient Atal'ai civilisation had crumbled many centuries ago, but its denizens still lingered in dry wrappings and embalming fluid. Kwahu used the lion's strong hind legs to knock the slow-moving bodies atop one another. Du'una blasts of magic immolated the flammable wrappings and the undead burned brightly as they stumbled around, sometimes spreading the fire to each other. Kwahu considered attempting to relight the torch, but the horde of mummies were still coming in great numbers.

He leapt from the floor to the wall and back behind a shambling troll, relying on the lion's dexterity to outmanoeuvre the slow moving corpses. He clawed at their backs as they futilely tried to face him. Another mummy approached from the side and he bit into its desiccated arm as he pounced behind another troll. The dried arm came away in his jaws, leaving ropey strips of trailing muscle. He spat the foul tasting ash from his mouth and raked his claws into yet another undead.

"Dis way!" called Du'una. Which way? He could hardly see a thing! The lion's eyes were better suited to the dark than his own, but they did not have the time needed to adjust with the troll firing bolts of magic every few seconds.

"Where?" He called. The cat's throat made his words almost indistinguishable but he could hear the troll's faint reply.

He followed the sounds of fighting and the flickers of bright light down the dark corridor. He clawed and bit at everything that came across his path until he turned a corner and his paws no longer found purchase on the stonework. He yelped as he fell through the floor but landed deftly on all four paws. This corridor was lined with dimly glowing torches in sconces and looking up he saw Du'una lifting a paving stone back into place to cover their trail.

"Where-?" He rubbed his head as he returned to his normal form.

"We be in da inner sanctum now, Tauren. Stay close."

The hallway they had landed in seemed to be better kept than the halls above. There was less plant growth and he could clearly make out the carvings lining the walls. They seemed to depict a group of trolls worshiping some sort of snake creature. Du'una motioned for him to stay silent as she led him to the end of the hallway where it joined a large circular room. Kwahu could not help but gawk in amazement. The temple was huge! The domed ceiling arched high above his head and he noticed many small hallways arcing out from the centre.

"I can't believe how much of this place has been hidden by the swamp!" He said in wonder.

The troll hissed at him to be quiet, and gestured to the inner ring. "Dragonkin. And look," she pointed, circling the room lazily flew a green dragon. "Dat be our ride."

"What are green dragons doing down here?" Kwahu furrowed his brow, "Ysera's brood are guardians of the Emerald Dream and closely tied to my druidic kin."

Du'una shrugged, "Da Atal'ai use powerful, dark magics. Da dragons be corrupted now."

The beast flew slowly, almost aimlessly around the inner ring. Kwahu closed his eyes and knelt, reaching out a hand to the mossy wall. As he slowed his breathing he began to sense the life in this place. He could feel the leaves and vines of the plants clinging to the walls and the tiny mosquito larvae floating in the still pools. The dragon appeared to be surrounded by a dark foreboding cloud, like a rank sickness that penetrated its very being. He stood up and looked back to the troll, "We have to help."

"Ha!" Du'una spat between his hooves. "We be havin not da time or da means. We best be escaping before da might of da Atal'ai descend upon us. Bring ya druid friends on your own fools errand. I be havin a demon to catch. Or did ya be forgetting your precious sistah so soon?"

Kwahu growled deep in his throat and balled his hands into tight fists. "Catch the damn dragon then."

Du'una smirked and moved into position just out of sight of the dragonkin. "Be a useful druid, eh? Make da vines give us some cover."

Kwahu cracked his fingers and drew a deep breath. Plant work was another area in which he had little talent. He closed his eyes and sent out his senses as before. He felt the vines clinging to the ceiling, he followed down their sturdy roots gripping the stonework and he felt the life within. Slowly, he coaxed the vines, he implored them to drink deeply from the pools of water dripping down the walls. He humbly asked the green tendrils to reach further, and further. Leaves sprouted and the vines spread faster than was naturally possible. They dropped down from the ceiling like a curtain of green leaves. Kwahu's knees wobbled from the effort and he broke off his connection to the plants. His hands were shaking, but he had done it. He beamed proudly and looked to the troll for her approval. He frowned when he saw her fixated on the dragon, seemingly ignoring his handiwork.

The dragon circled slowly. Du'una lay in wait, obscured by the low hanging vines as Kwahu crouched further along the hallway. Finally, when the beast was within striking distance, Du'una stood and began chanting in her strange tongue. Listening to the words made Kwahu feel a little dizzy, he raised his hand to his head to steady himself.

When he looked up the dragon was upon them and Kwahu jumped in shock. The beast was tangled in the vines like a fly caught in a spider's web. It struggled against the plants but was held fast like a living marionette. It could not open its jaws and it thrashed fitfully as the troll continued to work her dark magic. The dragon arched its back and then collapsed against the vines, ceasing its struggle. Kwahu approached the beast cautiously as Du'una began hacking the vines away. She kept a watch over her shoulder and paid little heed to the dragon's long teeth and claws within arm's reach. The dragon was no longer fighting. Its eyelids drooped and it seemed to be almost asleep. This was typical of green dragons insofar as he knew, but this one seemed completely unaware of its own surroundings.

"Get on." Du'una said as she climbed atop the dragon's back.

"What... what did you do?" Kwahu asked incredulously. Every time he thought he had this troll figured out she managed to surprise him.

"His mind be mine. He will fly where I be sayin."

"Mind-control? Du'una, you can't be serious! That is a living, sentient creature! It is wrong to-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Dis dragon be corrupted by Hakkar. He be sooner eatin off our heads than helpin us willingly. We cannot be affordin to draw more enemies, and we needin to fly to reach Tiponi. But, if you have a better suggestion, oh mighty righteous druid...? No?"

Kwahu hung his head shamefully.

"Ha. I thought not." Du'una laughed as Kwahu climbed silently behind her. Her wicked gleam did not diminish as Kwahu buried his face in his hands.


	180. Chapter 180

A yellowed page of parchment lies across the next page of the journal. The tiny writing reads: "The Story of Tiddilik."

_This story was told to me by my Grandmother, and if it pleases the Earthmother, I will tell it to you._

This is the story of Tiddilik the greedy toad.

Back at the dawning of the world, the spirits walked the lands of Azeroth.

Mighty Stag leapt through the woodlands with sly Wolf stalking his tail.

Eagle flew high above, he surveyed the land and he saw that it was beautiful and perfect. The Earthmother had crafted lakes, rivers, oceans and forests for the joy of her young.

There was one spirit however, who was not content with his place in the world. His name was Tiddilik.

Tiddilik saw the beauty of the world, the splendour of the sky and land and sea, and he was jealous.

You see, Tiddilik was a tiny, warty toad.

He was jealous of the other spirits. He saw Eagle soar above and hated him for his wings. He saw Stag leaping through the forest, and was jealous of his long stride.

Tiddilik grew envious of all the other spirits, and angry at the Earthmother. He cursed at our beloved Mother, and vowed to make all the other spirits suffer for their gifts.

Tiddilik was only a tiny toad so he needed to think. He sat and he thought, still as a stone in his pond. Then he sat and thought some more.

Tiddilik sat for so very long that he grew thirsty, and he hopped down from his lily pad to drink.

Suddenly Tiddilik had an idea. A marvellous wicked toady idea!

Tiddilik began to drink. He drank and drank until his thirst was quenched and then he drank some more.

He drank until he had swallowed every last drop of water in his pond, and nothing remained but a dry bed.

The fish spluttered in the open air, begging for Tiddilik to help them, but the toad only grimaced.

Tiddilik didn't stop there. He drank up the lakes, the rivers, even the entire ocean. Tiddilik the toad swelled in size as all the waters of Azeroth began to fill his bloated belly.

The other spirits saw what Tiddilik was doing and they grew very concerned.

Owl tried to reason with the toad, "Can't you see that you're destroying everything our Earthmother created?"

Tiddilik only grimaced.

Bear roared with her fury and swiped her viscous claws at the toad, but he was so large now, swollen with water, that Bear's claws did not harm him.

One by one the spirits tried to convince Tiddilik to release the water, but the wicked toad ignored them every time.

Finally there was only one spirit left who had not tried. The other spirits begged Coyote to think of something to make Tiddilik give back the water. For Coyote is the trickster, and he is very cunning.

Coyote approached Tiddilik cautiously, tail swishing. The toad regarded him with tiny beady eyes atop his round bloated body.

Then Coyote began to dance.

He leapt into the air and twisted around, bounding this way and that. All the while pulling funny faces at the toad.

Tiddilik blinked in confusion as Coyote frolicked in front of him. Coyote was making an utter fool of himself!

Then Tiddilik began to grin, and as he grinned the tiniest drops of water began to spill from his mouth.

The other spirits saw this and rejoiced. They cheered Coyote on and joined in with his dancing.

Eagle flopped around upside-down and boar rolled around on the ground. All of the most dignified animal spirits began to act like clowns for the toad.

Then Tiddilik began to laugh.

He laughed and laughed, and as he did the waters of the lakes and oceans spewed forth from his gullet, filling up the rivers and streams.

Tiddilik shrank and shrank and he laughed, losing his water. Until finally only the tiny toad remained.

The other spirits stopped in their dancing, ready to reprimand Tiddilik for his actions, but the toad was still laughing! He laughed and he croaked, and there was such joy in his voice that the other spirits couldn't help but join in.

And so, as my Grandmother used to say, the simple gift of laughter can solve some problems that even wisdom and strength cannot.


	181. Chapter 181

The sound of the rushing air was punctuated by the beating snap of leathery wings. The landscape rushed below them in a blur. The skeletal trees and crumbling rocks looked as if they were only a painting, and the tiny beasts and people littering its surface were miniature toys. The red earth of the Blasted Lands flashed by in an instant. Kwahu could see all the way to the edge of the horizon.

This had been his dream, to fly with the Eagles, his namesake. What he wouldn't give to fly away with them now. To leave this evil troll and her dark magics far behind. No responsibilities, just the sky.

A large rectangular fixture stood in the centre of a vast crater ahead. It almost looked like a doorway, but through the arch there was darkness and unfamiliar stars. Kwahu felt a pang of fear in his chest.

"Du'una? Is that it? Is that the portal?"

It was no use. She sat before him on the dragon and the wind carried his words away. He could only grit his teeth and hold on as the troll let out a whoop of exultation and they flew into the blackness.

He was nothing. There was only the void.

Kwahu gasped as they emerged on the other side. He had felt something strange when they passed through that dark doorway, but the memory was already fading from his mind. Kwahu's eyes widened and he gaped, scarcely believing his own eyes.

The earth was red, much like the Blasted Lands had been, but there the similarities ended. He could literally see the end of the world. The land ended with a jagged edge, and chunks of ruined earth spun in the air defying gravity. This world had been torn apart.

Below them he could see scores of foul demons, he could not even put a name to them all. Seemingly without limit they marched across the land laying waste to all they touched. Kwahu could not believe his own sight. "We are doomed." He began to laugh. He laughed in sheer disbelief and terror. Du'una turned around and gave him an odd look. She pointed and said something lost to the wind. There was a settlement in the distance and she was bringing the dragon in for a landing.

It was a Horde settlement, Kwahu could recognise the insignias as they drew close. Guards in watchtowers pointed at their approach and riders on giants bats flanked them as they came in. Kwahu alighted the moment their dragon touched the ground. He felt as though he was lost in a daze. Du'una came around to the front of the beast and gave its snout an affectionate pat. Kwahu just stood there as he watched its green scales turned to black and within seconds the dragon was reduced to ash, floating away on the sulphurous breeze.

Du'una turned back to him with a raised eyebrow. He looked at her blankly.

"Woe be me! Du'una, dat be a livin creature! No?" She threw up her hands, mocking him. "Well?" She asked, genuinely confused.

"What hope is there for us?" Kwahu wasn't really asking her. The demons were endless, they never truly died. But this world had. What hope was there?

"Aww, poor Kwahu." She placed a hand on his face, and Kwahu could not tell if she was mocking him. Then she grinned, revealing her stained yellow tusks. "Dere be no hope, only power." She gave his rump an affectionate pat and he shuddered at her touch. She had looked at him in the same way as she had the drake not a moment ago.

She called back over her shoulder as she strode away, "Don't be goin' anywhere."


	182. Chapter 182

"ANOTHER!" Kwahu roared as he slammed his tankard down on the table. This weak piss was far inferior to the honey mead he preferred but it served its purpose. The orc behind the bar glanced at him sideways as he poured another drink.

"What was I saying..." The other patrons of the inn had cleared away leaving him ample room to swing his tankard to emphasise his words. There was an orc drooling face down on the table, a red haired fel elf at the end of the bar and a group of off-duty soldiers behind him. "OH YEAH! I was just saying that it's all pointless really. You all." He pointed at the soldiers behind him as they grumbled at him and glanced at their officer. "You are wasting your time. Demons, they don't die. They just come again, and again. You can't win! HA!"

He burst out laughing as she soldiers left the inn. One of them glared in his direction before spitting on the floor. Kwahu just blinked and scratched the back of his neck.

"First time through the portal, I take it?"

"Huh?" Kwahu slowly turned, the red haired elf was talking at him.

"I've seen it before. It can be quite a shock the first time through, but don't worry, the despair fades."

He looked at her. She was tiny, like the rest of her kind. Built like a twig. She had cropped crimson hair tucked behind her ear and a pair of round-framed glasses perched on her nose.

"Whadda you know about anything? Huh? This world is dead. They killed her. This world's Earthmother. Just ash, and waste and death here now." He took a swig of ale and wiped his mouth with his arm. "And the demons, they don't DIE. They just go on forever... How can there be any hope?" He wiped his snout on his mane and tried not to sob.

The elf stood up from her stool and walked beside him. "It's true that they don't die, but they can be slowed down. There are many people out there fighting right now. Your people, fighting for their world."

"Fighting futilely." Kwahu glanced sideways at her. She had a smudge of ink smeared on her cheek.

"Are they? You have only just arrived, young Tauren. You have seen the Hellfire, but this is not all that is left of this world. Stay a little while, you would not believe the sights I have seen. In Terokkar forest the seeds of the Olemba trees refract the light of the nearest star to scatter beams in distinctive patterns, and in Zangarmarsh an entire ecosystem has developed around the mushrooms that dominate the region..."

Kwahu blinked at her, somewhat stunned. She spoke enthusiastically, with such passion.

"...and the green fields of Nagrand remind me so much of your own Mulgore. If only you could see it I'm sure you would be astounded by the myriad of exotic alien species that populate this planet. Young Tauren, can't you see? Your Earthmother has not given up on this planet yet, so why should you?"

Her words pierced through his sorrow like a spear. Kwahu's jaw dropped. "I can't believe... I have been acting so shamefully. My master would be so disappointed... And to think, it took an elf to bring me to my senses! Oh, no offense meant." he added bashfully.

She raised a long eyebrow at him.

He shook his head. "Who... are you anyway?"

She smiled, and when she laughed it sounded like the tinkling of a wind chime. "I am Nafiendra Damarthe, Demonolist of the Sunstrider Library in Eversong."

"You're a warlock?' He asked incredulously.

"I am a scholar. I research the demons. My kind is especially drawn to fel magic and since the loss of our Sunwell, I seek to remedy the damage caused by reliance on... unsavoury forms of magic. And what better place to study the demons than here." She gestured about her.

"I am Kwahu. Nafiendra is it?" She nodded, "You don't know anything about demonic possessions do you? I'm her looking for my sister..."

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss Kwahu," she said, waving her hands apologetically, "but you might be better served talking to a priest. Demonic possessions seem to be unusually common these days, especially among my own people, but it is not my area of expertise."

She turned to go back to her seat and before he realised what he had done, Kwahu had grabbed her arm and was pleading with her.

"Please, I'm describing it wrong I think. Du'una said it's not really a possession. She said the demon was in a shard, and the shard is in Tiponi. But the demon isn't free yet... or something. You should talk to her, she could explain it better."

The elfwoman paused and tapped a long fingernail to her lips. "A vessel within a vessel? Now THAT is unusual. I would like the opportunity to examine such a phenomenon."

Kwahu smiled. "Oh thank you! Having someone with your knowledge along would be-"

"Oi!" Du'una kicked open the door, heedless of the look from the bartender. She grinned widely as she planted her hands on her hips. "I be knowing where Tiponi be. We be heading to Shadowmoon Valley."

"Oh that's great!" Kwahu said as the elf also spoke her appreciation.

"Hey, who be the pixie?"


	183. Chapter 183

"And there, do you see there? The way the Olemba seeds seem to glow with their own internal source of light? The glassy sides of the seeds trap the star's light like a prism, internally refracting the light rays so that the light appears to be coming from inside. The refractive index of the seed coat is such that the wavelengths of light become separated into a distinct spectrum of colours!"

Kwahu really had no idea what the elf was talking about, but she spoke with such passion he could hardly ask her to stop. He just enjoyed listening for now.

..." and my colleague in the Scryers stationed right here in Shattrath city has proposed that the seeds may act as a repository of light, what we could call a kind of battery, to continue supplying the tree with light during the night cycle..."

"Would you shut up!?" Du'una called from the head of the party. "Ya been goin on and on for hours now. Nobody be caring about ya stupid seeds. Gah!" She seemed exasperated as she clawed at her messy hair.

Kwahu smirked at her discomfort. "I am interested. Tell me again about how the colours... ah... separate?"

Nafiendra smiled at him, and Kwahu sighed happily.

"It be gettin' dark. Time to make camp."


	184. Chapter 184

Kwahu was aware that he was dreaming. His nights had been filled with worried visions of his sister of late, but they were cast aside for now. Tonight he was dreaming of an elf, tiny but beautiful, with short red hair and an ink smudge on her nose. When she smiled the seeds from the trees glowed brightly, showering him with light. She was so beautiful. She came to him, and he opened his arms to embrace her.

A rustling noise disturbed his sleep. Kwahu woke groggily, trying to hold on to the dream but blearily returning to reality. "Wha..."" He rubbed his eyes, then froze. Someone was in his tent!

"Who's there?" he called, blinking in the darkness.

"Shhh!" she whispered as she crawled beneath his fur blankets.

Kwahu's breath froze and his heart began to pound in his chest. Could this really be happening? He had dreamed it, but surely it wasn't possible. She was an elf, he a tauren.

"What are you... We can't. This is..." he couldn't say it. This is wrong. This is wrong. But he wanted it.

She ran her light fingers over his chest, tracing patterns that gave him goose bumps. He ran his hand down her thigh. By the Earthmother she was slight!

His heart beat faster as she moved atop him and kissed him deeply. His arms encircled her as her tongue sought entrance into his mouth. He kissed her back, his tongue darting over hers and running along her tusks.

His heart stopped.

"Argh! ARGH! No!" He cried as he threw the troll off him. "Du'una! What are you doing?!"

"Don't be telling me ya didn't like it." She almost purred.

Kwahu tried not to gag. He wanted to spit.

"Get out, get out. GET OUT!" He roared.

He saw her dark shape disappear out of the tent opening and he collapsed back to the ground shuddering.


	185. Chapter 185

Green jagged streaks of lightning pierced the black sky with a deafening crack. Heavy foreboding clouds circled unnaturally overhead, like a pack of coyotes descending upon their wounded prey. Kwahu and Nafiendra had crossed into Shadowmoon Valley. The place seemed plucked from his very nightmares, and the fur on the back on his neck kept tingling. Du'una had vanished at some point during the night, but Kwahu was happy to be rid of her. She was probably sulking somewhere after that embarrassing incident. Even now, just thinking about it brought an uncontrollable shudder down his spine.

"It is terrible, isn't it?" Nafiendra asked, misinterpreting his bodily spasm.

"What? Oh yes. It is horrid." Kwahu tried to drive the thought of the troll from his mind.

They followed a broken road of compacted dusty black earth. The elf had to raise her normally diminutive voice to be heard over the rumbling thunder. "The demonspawn have affected this part of the land more than any other on Draenor. The very soil has been corrupted. I've been told by the native orcs that this land used to be a verdant forest. Now what's left of the trees are twisted shells, and the lakes and rivers run with sulphurous green molten rock."

"It smells terrible." Kwahu gagged, holding his nose.

"That is the sulphurous gas, I believe your people call it 'brimstone'. The lava pools belch it from deep below, and it contributes to this environmental devastation. But never mind the odour, you will be become accustomed to it in time."

They continued to trek in silence for a short while. Kwahu kept a wary eye on the scorched rocky outcrops for a possible ambush. They were getting close now, heading into the heart of demon territory. They were so, so close to Tiponi now, but how could they possibly find her? And what then? He still had no idea how to save her.

Something caught his eye in the distance behind them. "What the...?" he muttered under his breath.

"What is it?" The elf asked, following his gaze. Clearly those large ears of hers weren't just for show. "A dust storm? They do not typically occur in this region."

"Not a storm..." he looked at her worriedly. "That cloud was stirred up by many hoof falls in the dust. It seems a great army is headed our way."

Nafiendra's glowing eyes widened in fear. "We should hide."

"Agreed." Kwahu looked around for a suitable place which would also give them a clear view. "There." He pointed to a rocky ledge overlooking the path.

As the elf-woman scrambled up the incline, Kwahu called to the spirit of the Lion. The spirit filled him with warmth, and he smiled as he felt the lion's bravery bolster his own. He carefully smoothed over her tracks with his paws before padding up the slope to join her.

The approaching throng was moving with great haste. At the head of the convoy huge lumbering beasts armoured in silvery plated armour carried warriors similarly protected. The creatures were nothing like he had seen before. They were as large as a kodo, but instead of a horn on the tip of their snouts these beasts had two great curved tusks. Behind the beasts marched warriors in battle-plate, or flowing robes. And in the distance trailing behind, more of those beasts pulled carts laden with supplies. They were clearly an army marching to war. He squinted down at the people as they drew closer. They were a vaguely familiar race, with blue skin and prominent horns.

"Draenei..." he muttered as he returned to his Tauren form. "The Alliance are here?"

"No, not Alliance." Nafiendra pointed at their purple banners. "Aldor, they march from Shattrath."

"Are they friends?" Kwahu turned to her.

The elf shrugged. Even that movement seemed to be graceful. "They are the enemy of our enemy."

There was shouting below. One of the scouts was pointing in their direction. "We've been spotted!" Kwahu exclaimed.

"Let me handle this, Kwahu." Nafiendra said as she emerged with her hands raised in a gesture of peace.

They were very quickly surrounded by armed soldiers. These draenei rode upon agile beasts that reminded Kwahu of the gazelles of Mulgore. The scouting party hemmed them in with their mounts and drove them back down the mountain to the convoy. Kwahu jostled with his captors, trying to force space around himself, but Nafiendra shot him a look and shook her head cautiously. They were dragged down to the front lines of the invading army.


	186. Chapter 186

They were taken to the front lines of the convoy where a dark-skinned male draenei was dismounting from one of the huge tusked beasts. He looked Nafiendra up and down dismissively and Kwahu felt the blood begin to heat in his veins.

"What are you doing hiding in the rocks, Scryer?" The Draenei sneered.

At his nod the scout released Kwahu's arm. Kwahu rubbed the spot apprehensively as he quickly tried to assess the situation. The dark draenei was clearly a leader, and he moved with the assuredness of one who has survived many battles. He was flanked by two guards, younger and more inexperienced judging by their lack of battle scars. Or perhaps a testament to their great skill.

"A safety precaution." Nafiendra answered. "We could not tell at a distance if you were friend or foe. Your comrades ride with great haste." The elf ended the statement with a hint of a question.

"And? That still doesn't explain why you are in these fel-forsaken lands." The draenei leader crossed his muscular arms across his chest. He was as large as Kwahu, and clearly a more experienced fighter. Kwahu swallowed nervously.

"We are seeking-"

"My sister." Kwahu blurted out. The draenei turned his hard gaze to him as the elf gave him a cautioning glance. "Tiponi is missing, and last we heard she was here in Shadowmoon."

The draenei shook his head. "You should have mourned her. She cannot still be alive in this felhole."

Kwahu gritted his teeth but his reply was cut off by the elf. "What has happened Anchorite? Why the large consignment of troops?"

"I will give you nothing, Scryer spy." the draenei almost spat the words. Kwahu envisioned himself ripping out his condescending throat but the elf reminded him where he was with a light touch of her hand on his arm.

"Please Commander," she continued, "forget the petty politics for a change. Clearly something has happened and it looks like you need all the help you can get."

"What!?" Kwahu interrupted, pulling Nafiendra around to face him as he hissed his words. "We don't have the time to help these people. And look, they clearly don't want our help either! We need to find Tiponi."

"But Kwahu, these people need help."

"I don't care. I need to find my sister before it is too late." He hated himself for saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. Nafiendra's face fell and her eyebrows drooped downward. She looked so disappointed in him and he felt the heat of shame flush his face.

"Nafiendra... I..."

Suddenly another draenei burst in between the guards. He also appeared to be of high rank, but sweat poured from his face and his eyes gave away his sense of worry.

"Anchorite!" He addressed the leader, "Our scouts report that the arcane shield around the Altar of Sha'tar is beginning to fail. The demon army converges. Sir, the settlement is about to be overrun!" The messenger paid the two of them no heed as he struggled to catch his breath.

The draenei commander turned from them. "Sound the horns! We move double-time! We'll ride our Elekks to death if we must. The demons cannot take the Altar!" Immediately the forces around them began to scramble. Commanders were shouting orders and soldiers ran to and fro as the convey made ready to move with great haste. Kwahu had to pull Nafiendra out of the path of a racing Elekk.

"We must help them, Kwahu" Nafiendra pleaded with him.

Another messenger burst through the throng of rushing soldiers. "Anchorite! A message from the front!" he called.

The dark draenei shook his head dismissively as he mounted his Elekk. "I have heard, the shield collapses."

"There is more!" the messenger had to shout to be heard above the din. "The legion's commander has revealed herself. She leads the army from The Hand of Gul'dan. Anchorite, she is a tauren female!"

Kwahu's eyes widened and the fur on the back of his neck stood straight up.

The draenei commander turned narrowed his eyes at them both. "What was that you said about a sister?"


	187. Chapter 187

Kwahu's claws scrambled for purchase on the blackened ash layering the ground. Behind him, the blood elf struggled to keep up in her long robes. She was already breathless, but she voiced no complaint as they scaled higher up the slope. He paused for a moment to allow to her catch up.

Behind her in the distance he could see the trail of demons streaming from the mountain, like a line of ants marching in unison toward the Altar of Sha'tar. Brilliant flashes of magic in the distance lit up the sky where the Draenei army met the demonspawn. The fel-damned creatures were beating at the glimmering magical dome protecting the ancient Draenei temple. Even the mighty Elekks looked to be as small as insects from this distance as they crashed into the demon's line, sending bodies flying with great sweeps of their enormous tusks.

They were running out of time.

He glanced impatiently at the elf as she struggled to catch her breath. One hour, the Draenei anchorite had told him. He had one hour to find Tiponi and end the demonic advance before the Draenei pushed up the mountain. They would kill Tiponi to stop the siege. He _had_ to get to her first.

"Come on," Kwahu growled as his words were jumbled by his lion's form. "We don't have time to waste."

They continued in silence up the mountainside as great rocks engulfed in green flame rained down on them from the heavens. Kwahu's ears flicked backward at a sudden, deep roaring sound. He barely had time to look up when a giant flaming boulder nearly landed atop Nafiendra. The elf shrieked and fell backwards, tumbling down the slope.

"Nafiendra!" Kwahu yelled as he bounded down the hill behind her. His lion's paws sank into the ash but he was able to leap to the elf's side and catch the back of her robes in his teeth. The cloth tore, but did not give. The elf steadied herself, wiping her blackened dress with shaking hands.

"Are you alright?" He panted.

She nodded, and swallowed nervously.

"Look," he pointed with a claw, "We are nearly there."

Ahead up the mountain before them marched scores of demons from an opening in the side of the mountain. Tiny cackling imps bounded alongside stalking eyeless hounds and great hulking stone colossals. They poured from the Hand of Gul'dan to rain death upon the Draenei settlement below.

The sight seemed to drain what little colour remained in the blood elf's face.

"Come on." He tried to sound encouraging but desperation was seeping into his tone.

They crept up the mountainside just out of sight of the demonic horde. Kwahu tried to keep up a quick pace, but it was difficult to ensure steady footing, even with his deft cat's paws. The demons marched in unison, and did not appear to be too focussed on their surroundings. Kwahu and Nafiendra skirted past them to sneak a peek inside the cavern's entrance.

The cave was larger than a house. Inside the demons flowed forth from a great, shimmering portal. A foul looking orc covered in rotting cloth and bloodied skulls chanted and waved his hands at the foot of the portal. Behind him, a large cluster of warlocks of all difference races were chanting in some sort of ritual circle. There was a ledge above and behind them all. With the lion's sensitive vision, Kwahu could just make out the form of someone moving up there in the shadows.

"That must be Tiponi!" Kwahu whispered, "Up there! We have to-" He made to head into the cave but the elf grabbed a fistful of his mane.

"Kwahu, no! Would you look at all those demons coming out of the portal? You couldn't get to her. We need to stop the summoning first."

Kwahu looked at her in exasperation. "Is this about what I said before? We don't have time."

"We must _make_ time, Kwahu. I cannot hold them off by myself. We must do this to get to Tiponi."

Kwahu ground his teeth. "Fine!" He hissed.

"Look," she pointed at the skull-adorned orc, "That warlock is siphoning power from the others to maintain the portal. If I can stop him, we can close the portal."

Kwahu glanced between the elf and the portal, "And what do you want me to do?"

"While he's distracted, try as take out as many of his minions as possible. With luck, he won't have enough power to maintain the portal."

Kwahu nodded. "What about the demons?"

"I think they'll ignore us. They march to battle the Draenei. I am hoping that the orc will be too distracted to give them new orders."

"You are relying an awful lot of luck." Kwahu frowned.

"Sometimes we need a little luck. Do you have a better plan?"

The druid shook his head. He sighed as he looked at the elf. Her face was stained with soot and her eyes shone with a mix of excitement and fear. "Nafiendra," he swallowed nervously. "Thank you for doing this... I-"

"I'll be fine." She smiled sweetly.

"Alright then... let's do it. Good luck." The elf smiled at him and he couldn't help but grin back.

The lion melted into the shadows as he stalked into the cavern closer to his prey.


	188. Chapter 188

The cavern was boiling hot and Kwahu could feel the sweat running from between his claws. The lion wanted to pant to cool himself, but Kwahu needed to be silent as he crept closer to the chanting warlocks.

He kept to the shadows, skulking behind jagged rock formations as he inched closer to his prey. He could smell them now; the smell of sweat, excitement and brimstone filled his nostrils and burned his throat. His ears flattened back as he watch the elf creep towards the lead warlock. She could be awfully quiet in those slippers when she wanted to be. He could not even hear her chanting. Her lips were moving and her eyes flashed green with fel power. She moved her hands in front of her as though she were pulling a bolt of silk towards her.

It was so subtle, he might not even have noticed if he were not aware of her magic. A faint green trail of energy began to snake its way from the orc to Nafiendra. It wove its way through the air from the middle of the orc's back to the blood elf's fingertips. It was so faint he could hardly see it even with the lion's aid. The orc seemed to be unaware that his magic was slowly being drained.

Time passed, Kwahu was not sure how long he crouched, tense and ready to pounce as the elf wove her subtle threads of fel magic. Time seemed to stretch as his heart pounded forcefully in his chest. One hour... How long has it been?

"More power! GIVE ME MORE!"

The orc's sudden roar startled Kwahu and he could not help but jump. It was working, but it was taking too long. He wished the elf would hurry up.

"MORE!" The orc roared. The streams of magical energy flowing from his followers strengthened. Like many fine ropes growing thicker, they streamed into the warlock and he fed them into the portal. The gateway shimmered. Its outer edge began to glimmer and shake as the warlock's power ebbed. The other warlocks gathered were straining as he called on them for more magic. Sweat ran in rivulets down their faces and their expressions were painted anguish and fear.

Suddenly one of them screamed. A painful, drawn out death scream as one of the followers shrivelled up to a grey, wrinkled husk and crumpled into a pile of dust. Kwahu grinned, the warlock was killing his own followers. He glanced over at Nafiendra and his heart rose into his throat as he saw the same pained, drawn expression on her face as the other warlocks. Her strength was beginning to fail as well.

He had waited long enough.

Kwahu pounced onto a goblin warlock and began to crush his throat in his jaws.


	189. Chapter 189

The goblin gurgled as he struggled to breathe through his crushed windpipe. Kwahu tossed the body aside and it fell like a limp rag doll. He leapt atop another warlock minion without sparing the body a second glance. Claws and fangs bared, he rent gaping wounds across a human's back then with a roar of triumph he lashed the face of a gnome.

Only seconds had passed and already the summoning circle was falling. The lead orc warlock roared in anger, his eyes darting between Kwahu and Nafiendra. The skull adorned orc's ropey tendons stuck out as he tightened his hands into claws and made great, scooping motions with his hands. The green, fel magic coming from the warlock's minions swelled and cries of agony filled the air as the master warlock drained his followers dry.

Kwahu swiped at one warlock, only for it to turn to dust before his claws met skin. He turned and lashed at another but that one crumbled as well. Kwahu's eyes widened as he turned to the orc whose eyes flashed with fel power and yellowed teeth were bared in an angry snarl.

About Kwahu there remained only bloodied corpses and piles of dust where there once were people. The circle was broken. The demon portal flickered and dissipated without the magic to sustain it and the trail of demons marching from the cave to the Altar of Sha'tar was abruptly cut off. Kwahu let out an exultant whoop of victory, but his relief was short-lived.

The orc pointed a clawed finger at the last two demons to emerge from the portal. "Ashjraka ur tichar ruk... Kirasath maez kar az!" The orc's deep voice spoke in a strange tongue that sent shivers across Kwahu's fur. The two demons, great towers of fiery green rock turned and advanced towards Nafiendra.

"No!" Kwahu called, but the orc grinned as he barred his path to her.

Kwahu gritted his teeth. Fine.

The lion let out a mighty roar as he leapt atop the warlock. He tried to claw and bite at the orc's face but it was difficult to get close. The orc's robes were adorned with sharp spikes of bone that pierced Kwahu's flesh. He let out a yowl as the orc slashed across his face with his own sharp fingernails. Kwahu shook his head and prepared to attack again.

He glanced over at Nafiendra to see how she fared against both demons. The elf leant against a rock, but she had not yet given up. She had woven a new magic, a faint purple line of power connected her to one of the rock demons and she faced the creature against its kin. The two monsters crashed against each other with the sound of a thunderstorm. The one that glowed with a faint purple power was pushing the other away from the elf. Great gouges in the cavern floor were formed as the beast was forced aside. They locked together, evenly matched as Nafiendra strained to maintain control.

Kwahu was knocked off his feet by a blast of fire. He rolled with the impact to lessen the damage to his bones and to attempt to put the fire out. He was so close! He could not let this one orc stop him now! He leapt back to his feat and raced towards his adversary. The orc was summoning another fireball. Kwahu anticipated it this time and with the cat's great agility he leapt over the meteor as it sailed towards him. The warlock was caught off-guard and Kwahu had an opening. He roared with triumph as he brought his claws down toward his enemy's throat.

His strike missed. Instead of contacting the orc's flesh his paws swiped wildly at the air when he was suddenly blown back off his paws. Dust coated the air and filled his lungs. His vision swam and his ears rang with the crack of a breaking mountain. He shook his head, looking about for a glimpse of his attacker. The orc had also been knocked away by the ground-shaking impact when one of the massive stone demons was hurled into the cavern wall. The green flamed demon pulled itself out of the rock, leaving a gaping crack through which green liquid began to ooze. Great chunks of rock fell from the ceiling and for a moment Kwahu feared that the whole cavern might collapse.

The fallen demon lumbered over a pile of boulders to continue fighting its brother. In the hole in the cavern wall it left behind, a trail of green glowing lava began to flow more quickly through the cracks. It ran like smooth Mulgore honey across the cave floor. The fel lava's sulphurous stench burned the inside of his nose, and even a few feet away Kwahu could feel the heat radiating from the green liquid as it oozed its way out of the cave and down the mountain.

WHOOMP!

Kwahu was blinded again. Deafened and disorientated. He spun, trying to catch sight of his attacker but the world kept spinning. His whiskers were on fire. Kwahu hurriedly stamped out the flame as he caught sight of another fiery blast arching overhead. He crouched behind a fallen boulder, using the rock for shelter as the flaming ball splattered against the rock.

He could not stay here! He crept out from his cover. The arching fireball had given him a hint as to his foe's location. Kwahu pulled his paw back quickly as the two brawling demons rolled across his pathway in their ongoing fight. When they had passed he continued onward, creeping quietly now. At least he hoped it was quiet, from the ringing in his ears he thought he might have burst an eardrum.

Every few moments a ball of fire would launch and land somewhere in the cavern. The orc was firing blindly. Kwahu grinned as well as the cat could. He crept slowly, trusting in his lion's paws to be silent amid the crashing of rocks and crackling flames. Kwahu climbed atop a displaced boulder and from this vantage point he could see the orc below. The beast sweated and stank, he muttered curses in that harsh tongue as he summoned orbs of fire. Behind the orc trailed a growing pool of that green boiling liquid.

Kwahu's eyes widened. He crouched and waited for the orc to let loose another fireball before pouncing. His paws collided with the orc's chest and sent him sprawling backward. Kwahu sprang back in the other direction, using the orc to ricochet away. The orc fell into the lava.

His screams pained Kwahu's ears. At least his hearing was returning. Kwahu tentatively approached the orc, hoping to put the creature out of its misery. The flesh had already melted from its blacked bones. The sight turned Kwahu's stomach and he had to look away.

Nafiendra.

He hurried over to the other side of the cavern. The noise of crashing rocks had ceased. Only faintly glowing inanimate rock remained. The elf lay against the cavern wall. She was breathing heavily and her eyes seemed fainter than normal.

"Nafiendra! Are you injured!" He called as he sprung to her side.

"Kwahu!" She smiled, and even drawn as he face was her smile light up like a sunbeam. "No, I am, I'm just drained. How about you, are you hurt?"

"Couldn't be better." he grinned at her.

She smiled again and rested her head on his furry shoulder. Kwahu sighed happily, wanting to rest this way forever.

Horns sounded triumphantly in the distance below. Kwahu turned to Nafiendra as she spoke.

"The Draenei have repelled the demons from the altar. We have done it, Kwahu." she sighed contentedly.

Kwahu's eyes widened. "No! That means they'll be here any minute. We have to get to Tiponi!" he glanced up at the ledge above. He could almost imagine that shadowy figure drawing closer.

"Kwahu," Nafiendra reached up to him, her hand was shaking and her voice wobbled, "I... I don't think I can."

"Of course you can! She's right there!" Kwahu's panic was beginning to enter his voice. "Please, we are so close!"

The elf looked down and nodded once. She steadied herself against Kwahu and together they moved together.

"Kwahu, is that you?"


	190. Chapter 190

Kwahu turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Tiponi stood over him, cocking her head slightly to the side as he returned to his Shu'halo form and helped the elf to her feet. She was still much shorter than he, but she did not seem weakened by her ordeal. She was clad in strange demonic armour that crackled with green lightning like the overcast sky and she half-heartedly dragged the point of a blackened great sword in the dirt. Her eyes alternated between fixing him with a penetrating stare, and staring vacantly through him.

"Tiponi, I'm so happy to see you. I-"

"You shouldn't be here Kwahu, these dreams always end badly." She squinted up her eyes and shook her head as if trying to clear her vision.

He glanced at Nafiendra as the elf arched one long eyebrow. "Is that what you think this is, dear? A dream?" she asked gently.

"Mustn't be here. This is a very bad place. Go away. SHUT UP I'M TALKING!" Tiponi roared.

"I, we didn't..." Kwahu stammered in confusion.

"She appears to be partially aware of us," the elf whispered to him, "but she is clearly wrestling against a demonic influence... " The elf then nodded as if coming to a decision. "Kwahu, I want to try something. Can you keep her talking while I try to dominate the demon within her? Perhaps she will think more clearly without its interference."

Kwahu nodded as the elf slipped around behind his sister. "Tiponi, what is the last thing you remember?"

She looked at him and blinked as if he were something odd. "I'm... in a cage. Too close, too close to the edge. Why did they have to die?" She looked frightened, confused, then just as quickly her expression became passive. "Kwahu, is that you?"

He glanced at the elf who was making ready. She began to move her hands delicately and a familiar purple glow appeared about her body. He turned back to Tiponi, "Uh, yes. I thought we had already-"

"You shouldn't be here, Kwahu. This is a very bad place..."

Kwahu shook his head. "You're confused. Let us take you home." He looked to the elf as she wove the tendril of purple magic towards Tiponi.

The magic connected with Tiponi's back and her eyes shot wide open. Kwahu grinned at Nafiendra gleefully. "I think it's working!"

Nafiendra smiled back at him, that beautiful smile that filled him with warmth. There was a flash of movement, he had no idea that Tiponi could move so fast. One moment the elf was smiling at him, the second, her head was tumbling away from her body.

Kwahu's breath caught in his throat. He choked, gasping as he looked from Tiponi, brandishing that bloodied great sword to Nafiendra's body as it fell to its knees, then sideways into the dirt.

The breath he was holding gurgled up his throat, bursting into an uncontrollable wail of despair. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !" He screamed in anguish as Tiponi turned calmly to face him.

"You came here to kill me." She said coolly.

Kwahu's blood thudded in his ears, his whole chest seemed caught up in his throat. His hands shook and his mind went completely empty of all words. He could not help but let out a sad whimper when he saw Nafiendra's head come to a rest on the ground, her face forever frozen in shock.

Rage boiled through him and Kwahu let it take him. The bear spirit came to him, she took all that was left of Kwahu up into her great paws and took the hurt away. All that was left was rage.

The bear that was Kwahu roared in its anger, and charged Tiponi. Great paws thudded against the rock as the bear charged with the force of a kodo, but the female Tauren grinned and leapt away. She let out an exultant whoop as she set her hooves and raised her sword.

The bear roared in anger and Kwahu's mind retreated further into the spirit of the bear. _My fault. How could she? _

_RAGE._

The bear charged again, this time prepared for the light-hoofed dodge and when it came it had a paw ready. The bear's claws bit into the metal that the woman wore, ear-piercing shrieks rent the air and the metal parted under its claws. The bear's victory was short lived as the blackened blade came down and bit into its fur but the bear's hide was tough, much tougher than an ordinary bear's and so although great chunks of fur were sliced away, the bear remained uninjured. Somehow, the sight of blood on the blade drove the bear into a greater frenzy. It howled in anguish and struck again.

Tiponi blocked the attacks with her sword and her arm braces and despite the great rents being carved into the metal, and the great chunks of fur that went flying, neither side was truly victorious. Sweat poured from the Tauren's mane into her eyes, which were maddened with bloodlust. The bear's eyes were entirely black now, no trace of the druid that was Kwahu remained. But the bear was beginning to tire. It stood up on its hind paws and wrestled with the Tauren female.

Armour-clad as she was, Tiponi was no match for the bears great strength. The animal drove its enemy backwards, hooves slid on stone and the Tauren grunted with exertion. The bear's nose began to burn as a horrid smell entered its nostrils and its fur sweltered in the sudden heat. The Tauren woman fought against the bear now in desperation as the animal drove her away and she fell backwards. Something stirred in the bear then, a hesitancy, a thought for mercy that was foreign to the animal.

Tiponi fell backwards into the lava and her shrieks of agony cut through the bear's spirit like a swordstroke and into Kwahu's mind.

_No! _Kwahu threw the bear spirit off himself like tossing off a cloak. The sudden shift to Shu'halo form and his own senses was disorientating but he steadied himself at the thought of his sister. Tiponi had rolled out of the lava, but she was still horribly burned. Her armour seemed to have shattered, its demonic magic unable to hold up against the inferno. Her skin was red and blistered, he could see her bones in places and her right horn had cracked in the heat.

She lay unmoving, sprawled on the ground and Kwahu rushed to her side. Restorative magic had always come slowly to him. He tried to clear his mind as best he could, but thoughts of his sister and poor Nafiendra kept popping into his head. After what seemed an eternity he started to feel that familiar warmth flowing through him. He guided the flow of magic into his sister's body. As he steered the magic into her wounds he gagged at the sight of her empty right eyesocket, still dripping black liquid. Some things could not be mended, even if he were the best healer in Kalimdor.

"Earthmother, please!", he babbled, desperately working his meagre healing, "I've always tried to do your wishes, to be what you wanted me to be. Please, help me now Mu'sha, I can't do this! You must save her!"

As he continued to direct the flow of healing magic, he could feel his strength draining to feed his sister's. His knees began to shake, so he knelt at her side. Muscles reattached, skin re-knitted. From her horn, down her entire right arm and halfway down her thigh, her skin would be forever scarred. He could not give her back her eye but at least she would live. At least she would be-

One moment she was lying there unconscious, the next she was beside him grinning into his face with that horrible empty eye. He looked down and was surprised to see her sword sticking through the middle of his chest. He tried to laugh, but it was hard to breathe. And he was so tired. He saw his sister before him as his vision dimmed, and he smiled at her.

And then Kwahu died.


	191. Chapter 191

Tiponi sat for a moment, giggling to herself. She chewed on her lower lip anxiously and appeared irritated.

"Why did it stop?" she muttered aloud to herself.

This isn't how it's supposed to go. _So still now, so quiet_. Quiet. Is it really happening this time? _We won! We won! _Kwahu?

Tiponi screamed in horror. She collapsed to her knees at Kwahu's side and began to sob into his red fur.

"Oh Kwahu, Oh no! I'm so, so sorry."

Her whole body shook as she began to cry, the tears running only from her left eye now. She sniffled and wiped her face with her hands, then recoiled in horror at the ruination of her right eye.

It was so quiet, her wail seemed unusually loud. For the first time in many months she seemed to be utterly alone.

She continued to cry pitifully into her brother's mane. "I don't deserve to have you as a brother Kwahu. I'm such a screw-up. I can't fix this, this time..."

She looked up, hoping to see the sky overhead but instead she only saw the dark rock. "Earthmother," she gulped, "I don't know if you can hear me. I don't even know if you would want to listen to me, after all I've done... but please, spare Kwahu. He is an innocent servant of yours, he does everything right. Not like me."

She stifled another cry as she looked upon his face, he looked so peaceful. "Earthmother please, take my life instead of his! I beg of you. I promise my life to you, such that it is, if you will have it."

She took another shuddering breath and gasped. She felt as though her whole body were on fire. She closed her eyes, remembering the pain of the lava not minutes ago. "Yes, please. I am ready." She said shakily.

But instead of the fire consuming her to ashes, that blaze travelled through her, hotter than anything she had ever imagined. She put her hands upon Kwahu's chest without even realising why, and she cried out in alarm as she felt the burning heat pass through her into him.

Waves upon waves, each one searing hot flowed out of her and she could feel her strength weakening. Her knees began to shake beneath her but she forced herself to continue, even though she did not fully understand. Finally when the last wave had passed she allowed herself to collapse next to her brother's body. She held him tight, and could not contain her tears when he suddenly started to breathe. The wound in his chest had vanished, and although he was still unconscious, he appeared to be unharmed.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Tiponi sobbed happily. She wiped her face again and this time was surprised by the feel of something sharp cutting into her cheek. She peered down at her hand. Sitting in her palm was a tiny shard of crystal, no larger than a grain of rice. She frowned in confusion.

"Well now, don't dat be a sight." The sultry voice behind her was strangely familiar.

Tiponi tried to stand, but all the strength had been drained from her body. It was all she could do to turn her head towards the voice. "Who's there?" she called.

The woman walked into her field of vision. She was a troll, with pale blue skin, dark blue hair styled up into a Mohawk and strange talismans decorating her scant clothing.

"Du'una?" Tiponi asked incredulously, "What are _you_ doing here?"

The troll woman walked towards her with an exaggerated sway of her hips. "You be havin' someting of mine, girl." She hissed, and her manner was not at all like Tiponi remembered.

Something was strange about the troll, Tiponi could just make out the faint wisp of a cloud-like substance about her wrist. It appeared like fog, then vanished again, then reappeared. Tiponi could see that the strange fog was spun out in a line connected to another cloudy figure. She inhaled sharpy as the fog coalesced for a moment and she saw the strands as chains connected to manacles on the other figure. A troll without a head.

"Mogh?" Tiponi whispered quietly.

"Eh, what?" Du'una cocked her head.

"Oh...uh..." Through it was hard to see the mist, Tiponi was sure she could see the form of Mogh the Witchdoctor holding his head in his hands, shaking it from side to side. "Uh... what did you say I have?"

"The Demon Seed..." she purred.

Tiponi's eyes widened in sudden understanding. _The mirror. The mist. The nightmares. The voices. _

"Ah, you do be knowin' den. Good. Be givin' it to me now and I be on my way." Du'una smiled unnervingly as she extended her hand towards Tiponi. If she were aware of the ghostly troll frantically shaking his head, she gave no sign.

Tiponi hesitated, "I..."

"Last chance girl," Du'una's eyes flashed in irritation. "You and your brudda be in no state for a fight. You be givin me da Demon Seed, or I be takin it from your bodies."

Tiponi lowered her head and sighed. She looked over at her still sleeping brother and ran her fingers across his thick red fur. "I'm sorry Kwahu, I tried." With that she dropped the tiny crystal shard beyond Du'una's reach and with her last ounce of strength, she crushed it beneath her hoof.

Du'una's eyes widened in horror, "No! Fool! You've doomed us all!"

"I will suffer if I must, but I will NOT let you hurt anyone else!" Tiponi cried, looking back sadly at Kwahu one last time.

The air seemed to sizzle and a crack of lightning split the air where her hoof had been a moment ago. A shining gap seemed to form in the air. A tear in reality. Tiponi's jaw dropped as she began to sense something vast on the other side. She screamed wordlessly when a giant eye appeared through the rift, looking around searchingly.

Du'una began to conjure tendrils of dark magic. "Ya be mine!" She cried, "Ya promised me!"

Tiponi bent over Kwahu, trying to shield his body with hers.

"DU'UNA KAR SHASHA ET KHAAL." The voice from beyond was louder and deeper than any naturally sounding voice she had heard. And yet she found it horrifyingly familiar. The voice broke into a peal of thunderous laughter as a great taloned hand began to reach through the portal.

The red hand reached through the tear up to the great demon's forearm and it began to search blindly. Tiponi yelped in terror as the thing's blacks claws, as large as her whole body, ploughed into the dirt only inches from where she lay.

A trail of red magic snaked its way to the demon's hand, beginning to entwine itself around the five enormous fingers. With a great boom of cruel laughter the creature flexed its hand and snapped the magical threads. Du'una recoiled backwards as if a rope she had been holding had been cut. She tried again, weaving thicker, darker strands of magic towards her colossal foe.

For a moment the magic seemed to hold, binding the monstrous hand in ropes of dark power. Du'una cackled gleefully.

Then the creature pulled. It pulled back on the magical threads tying it to the troll and she was lifted off her feet. She flew several feet through the air to land at the base of the portal.

Tiponi had been watching the battle unfold, her mouth hanging open. She was surprised when the ghostly figure appeared it her side.

"Tiponi si kuna Du'una si ful'eh!" he motioned toward the portal.

"I don't understand!" Tiponi cried.

Kwahu lashed outward with his hoof. Tiponi gasped in shock by his sudden movement. His hoof connected squarely with Du'una's back and sent her sprawling straight into the great demon's grip. Her struggles were futile as the beast withdrew its catch into the abyss beyond, tangled in her own mystic bindings. Du'una's wails of terror rang through the air until they were muffled by her passage to the other side. The great demon cackled in triumph.

Fine chains of mist were pulling the ghostly Mogh into the rend as well. He chuckled to himself as he followed Du'una, turning at the last moment to smile at the two tauren sprawled on the ground. He touched two of his fingers to the lips of his severed head and then he was gone.

The misty form of the troll vanished into the portal as the hole in reality shimmered and began to shrink. With one final horrifying peal of that merciless laugher, it vanished like it had never existed.

Tiponi sat in stunned silence for a moment, then grabbed hold of her brother and hugged him as hard as she could. He smiled at her and tousled her mane.

He released a breath, as though he had been holding it for a while. "Can we go home now?" He asked.

She laughed. "Yes. Please, let's go home."


	192. Chapter 192

The afternoon sun hung low over the distant mountains. Motionless clouds were painted pink as the last rays of daylight bathed Mulgore in a red glow. The Tauren people of the land went about their business, tending the last of the day's chores. The Braves encircling Bloodhoof village kept up their vigil as mothers ushered their protesting young back inside their tents. One of the Braves squinted in the failing light as she spotted a lone figure on the eastern road. The small figure was swathed in thick robes covering their whole body, and they walked slowly with a heavy limp. The Brave motioned to another of her kin and together they went forth to meet the stranger.

High above the village below, two pairs of eyes regarded the proceedings. They watched silently as the figure was met by the guards who had gasped in surprise and beckoned the solitary wanderer inside the camp. It seemed every step pained the traveller but even as the Braves moved to offer their assistance the cloaked one refused and limped into Bloodhoof alone. Moving with a sense of purpose, the hooded figure moved towards one tent set apart from the others and disappeared inside. But cloth and skin roofs proved no barrier to the eyes of the two watching from above.

The figure stood in the doorway and regarded the lone bull sitting within. His face was to the wall and he sat in silence, as he often did of late. Takoda Darkmane, his once proud red fur now tinged grey and matted, did not turn around as the figure approached. The watchers above would have held their breath, if they had any.

"Is that you Turak? I'm sorry old friend, I have no strength today..." the bull rumbled. Weariness filled his voice as he absent-mindedly stroked the petals of the prairie flower in his hand. When the figure did not respond the bull began to turn, "I said –" the words were lost on his tongue as he rose slowly, the forgotten flower dropping onto the fur-covered floor. Takoda moved toward the figure slowly, not taking his eyes away from the shrouded face. The two Braves stood outside the tent, muscles ever tense and ready to spring. A crowd had begun to gather, they whispered hush questions but the bull did not notice at all. His eyes never left the traveller. As he neared, he reached a shaking hand up to the cowl of the figure's robes. The stranger did not speak, did not move until the heavy cloth covering her face was pulled away.

The young tauren beneath might have been pretty once, but horrendous scarring had forever robbed her of that. The right side of her face was completely burned away. The fur was missing and the raw scar tissue that was exposed looked like stretched muscle fibres. Her right horn had been cracked and broken and all that remained of her eye was a gaping socket. She was hideous, but she did not lower her head in shame.

"Tiponi?" was all Takoda asked.

"Father, I'm-" her words were broken off as the bull embraced her in a hug that swept her off her feet. She smiled and tears began running from her remaining eye as she failed to find the words.

"I know, I know." her father said.

A great cheer arose from the crowd as the other villagers came forward to welcome the young one home. As a great fire was prepared and a feast made ready, one of the watchers smiled. The watcher was very tall, even for a tauren, and grey flecks at the edges of her black mane revealed her age. Despite her wrinkles, her green eyes sparkled with vitality and wisdom. The spirit turned to her companion. "All is well again, Tiponi has returned."

The other spirit said nothing, for he rarely needed to. The golden coyote did not share his companion's happiness. Instead he frowned as he watched the festivities below.

The elder tauren sighed, "The Earthmother has a plan my friend, and you have played your part well." She bent down to pet coyote on the head but the spirit leapt away from her with a growl. Swishing his tail he turned around, away from the spirit woman and the village below. Without a word he scampered off into the night.

The other spirit shook her head making a "tut-tut" noise. "Welcome home my yahzi, my little one." With one last smile at those below, the spirit vanished into the ether.


	193. Chapter 193

_Where to begin?_

So much has changed since I left, both for me and my people. I do not even feel like the same Shu'halo that I was. Part of me has died, and I know not which part. All of me should have, I know. The Earthmother has both spared me and granted me a most precious gift. Finally I need no longer sit helpless as my kin suffer about me. I walk the path of the Sunwalker now, blessed by the light of An'she. It is a gift that I know I do not deserve, but I shall do my best to earn it.

I could almost laugh. I finally solved the Elder's riddle. It is so obvious to me now, plain as the light of day if only I had seen it. So many things are clearer in hindsight... "My duty is to my people, and to my heart." I cannot have one without the other when they are both one and the same. My duty to my heart is my duty to my people. I will serve my kin to the best of my ability until the Earthmother withdraws her favour or I draw my last breath.

So much has changed. I arrived back in Mulgore with no way of contacting the Stormtotem tribe. My windtotem is lost but I think I know where I left it. The last time I remember seeing it is before I fell down that hole into the caverns beneath the Barrens. When things are looking better here, I shall go hunt for it.

I say when things are better... I can hardly imagine them getting worse. I have returned to a broken people. Chieftain Cairne is dead, slain by one we called ally. There have been hushed whispers that Magatha was involved, for the Grimtotem attacked Thunder Bluff shortly after. The survivors had to drive them from the city. Cairne's son Baine has taken up the mantle of Chieftain. He is young, but honourable and I do not envy him his task. The beloved heart of our people has been gutted, and once more I feel stabs of pain in my chest when I think that I was not here for them when they needed me most.

The whole world it seems is shattered. Once again, in hindsight all things become clearer. The restless elementals, Jaalak's vision...It was a warning.

I have yet to make contact with the Stormtotem, but I did go to father. For months I dreaded it, I thought about it and reworded again and again what I would say. It turns out I didn't need to. Father loves me, and he has forgiven me. I can only hope the rest of my kin are so willing.

He was concerned for Fala, apparently the breaking of the world has unleashed a tide of quillboar from Brambleblade Ravine. My sister has not yet sent word. And so it was that not shortly after being reunited with father that I set off again for Narache. It makes me weep to see what they have done to our beloved lands. The ground itself is parched and giant thorns rise from the broken earth, swallowing all. All the plant and animal life has gone from the area, only the disgusting pig-men remain. Our Braves were doing all they could to drive them back. I'm afraid that with my injuries, there was little I could do to aid them. I blessed them with An'she's light and began searching for my sister.

The air stank with their filth and rang with the battlecries of Tauren and quillboar alike, as well as the clash of steel. As I skirted the boundary to their thorny nest I was attacked by a small group of the creatures. I may not be able to move very fast at the moment, but I still remember how to cleave a head. I could feel the rush of battle fill my veins. I closed my eye amid the chaos and breathed deeply, relying only on my ears to give me warning of attack. I did not hear the snorting of an approaching pig-man, but I did hear a baby cry.

With as much speed as I could muster, I hobbled toward the cries. There amidst the rubble, hiding under the muck, I saw my sister. She cradled a calf in her arms, trying vainly to shush it. Beside her lay the body of her mate. Marjak looked as though he had been in the thick of the fighting. His muscled blacksmith arms were lacerated and his face bloodied. As I raced towards them Fala screamed in terror.

"Noooooo!" she cried, using her body to shield the calf.

I looked about for an assailant, but I was the only one present. I did not waste time and instead knelt at her mate's side.

"Hush sister, you and your kin will be safe soon."

Fala's eyes widened. "Tiponi? What in the Earthmother's name happened to you?"

Marjak was still breathing shallowly. He had lost lifeblood, but his sturdy heart still beat strong. I placed my gloved hand on his chest and closed my eye. I begged the Earthmother for her blessing. I could feel An'she's light in my veins. It was a warmth, spreading inside of me and flowing into the fallen bull. It did not take long for the cuts to knit together and his eyes to flutter open.

"There will be time for explanations later. First, we must get out of here."

My family are safe again. Except for my dear brother Kwahu, to whom I owe everything, we are together. And I am an aunt. My niece's name is Awenasa, it means "My home".

I am home.


	194. Chapter 194

_It has been a week since I have returned. In that time I have witnessed a great deal of change. The place of my birth, the Barren lands have been rent asunder and a huge chasm stretches across the land. I have seen both my homelands and people broken. Thunderbluff is crowded with refugees crying for their missing loved ones. I have seen so much suffering, but not all hope is lost. I have also seen my people show great strength as they begin to clear the rubble and rebuild. Yet for all my searching so far, there has been no sign of my kin._

I saw today a few familiar faces in the Bluffs. Chieftains Huatar and Besti have survived and are well. I cannot express how happy I was to see them. But they came bearing terrible news. During these cataclysmic events, my former Chieftess Adalina, like so many others, has passed into the arms of the Earthmother. I mourn for her loss. She was nothing but kind and generous to all she met. It infuriates me that the doomsday cultists have not let up in their attacks. Haven't my people suffered enough? They will be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. Huatar confirmed my fears, that most of the Stormtotem have been lost and the few survivors have been scattered. Never before have my people suffered such widespread calamity. My heart weeps for them, but I there is little time to mourn. There is so much work to do.

Amid the despair and loss, I have also witnessed the tenacity of life to thrive. Just as new life is blooming in the Barrens, so too does life go on for my people. I met Bestiarius' daughter, the darling Enapay. I did not ask, but the beautiful girl is the splitting image of Adalina. Quite charming too. He tells me that Chieftess Padania also bore him a healthy son and this news fills my heart with joy.

I now make preparations to head to the Crosswords. Uncle has replied to my letter, and he has agreed to accompany me into the depths below the Barrens. I can think of only one other way to contact my scattered people. I must find my windtotem. I'm fairly certain I know where it fell, but I'll need help to get down there, given my current state of health. I pray for those that have been lost, and I pray that I am not too late to reach the others.


	195. Chapter 195

Tiponi shook out her mane as once again as a great splash of water from somewhere above landed directly on her head. She was soaked through. She had been initially surprised by the rushing river that wound its way through the cavern. The water was not so very far beneath the surface, but still the land above was so barren, so parched.

"Why is it so wet down here?" She asked the grey-furred bull beside her.

Her father's friend, the strange old bull she had called Uncle for most of her life, was watching her hooves as they picked their way along the slippery rocks. It was true, walking was more difficult for her now with her injuries, but she wasn't going to let him carry her. He snorted, clearing his throat with a deep rumble. "The land we know as the Barrens was once a lush rainforest that connected Feralas with Ashenvale. We druids have been interested in what happened here for some time now... There are some among us who believe the change can be reversed. Are you sure you're alright? Really we can go slow-"

"I'm fine Uncle. You did mention there were druids down here before...?" Tiponi smiled quietly to herself as she quickly redirected the old bull's conversation.

"Ah yes, the druids of the Fang... Naralex was one of us who thought to revitalise this land, but something went terribly wrong. The creatures down here, including his disciples, were all affected. We should stay out of their way, for they will attack if they become aware of our trespass."

Tiponi nodded, taking a moment to get her bearings. They had been wandering around in these caverns for over an hour and had seen little life other than the odd overly-aggressive reptile. All of these tunnels looked alike and she felt no better off than they were an hour ago. "This is hopeless. I don't even know where to look." She shrugged helplessly.

"Shall we head back then?" Chamassou asked almost eagerly.

"Not yet. I... I remember the water being deeper." Tiponi gestured with her hoof at the ankle deep river.

The old bull nodded and pointed down a passageway seemingly like any other. "Let's try this way, the river swells deeper down there."

True enough the cavern opened up into a wide chasm. The water rose to a point that Tiponi imagined she could be fully submerged beneath its depths. The water was clouded, but flowing slowly. "This is familiar," she grinned happily, "I think I fell through here."

"Ah yes, I thought I saw a distinctly shaped Tiponi-indent on that rock over there." Chamassou winked.

"Very funny. Now help me look?" Tiponi unstrapped her leather satchel and set it aside on a rocky outcropping. She eased herself into the water. It wasn't difficult to fight the weak current, even in her current state. The water was very cold and she gasped for air as she broke the surface. "I can't see very well under there Uncle, the water is too clouded." She gestured to the scarf covering her missing eye.

Chamassou nodded. "I'll look downstream, the current would have carried it that way." He stepped into the water and instantly his form began to melt. His grey fur shortened and his flesh became blubbery. He shrank as he shifted until he became a small, streamlined but ungainly aquatic creature. Without a word he dove into the water and disappeared beneath the surface.

Tiponi waited. The only sounds that reached her ears besides her own breathing was the crashing of a waterfall upon the rocks somewhere deeper within the cavern. It seemed an impossible length of time that she waited until she began to grow nervous. What if something had happened to Chamassou? She was contemplating jumping back into the water when he re-emerged from the river's surface. "Thank the Earthmother," she sighed, "Any luck?"

"Yes, though maybe not the kind you were hoping for." He replied after her resumed his Shu'halo form, and held out a broken leather strap in his hand.

Tiponi picked up the leather, and held it up to her good eye. "My totem was attached to this. You didn't see it? It's a coyote, coloured with golden ochre."

Chamassou shook his head, he did not seem to notice the water dripping from his drenched mane. "I looked, trust me. But look at the leather, would you girl? That's no tear, the leather's been cut. I think someone down here has taken a fancy to your totem."

Tiponi stood shocked for a moment, her mouth hung slightly open as she digested the news. "You mean, one of the druids?"

Chamassou nodded, "But I think I know where it will be, come this way."


End file.
